An Enchanting Tale
by authaarondennis
Summary: Dark Elf S'maash, travels from Morrowind into Skyrim in order to unravel the mysteries of Enchanting. After some Dwemer ruins, Aylied ruins, and the College of Winterhold, S'maash finds himself in Whiterun.


**Based on the Elder Scrolls series**

**An Enchanting Tale**

**Aaron Dennis**

**Chapter One Growing Up**

S'maash always had an affinity for magick, Enchanting especially. His natural talent was rivaled only by his love for the art. In his days as a child of Morrowind, he ran about with his friends and siblings stirring up all sorts of trouble. While they mainly tried to stow away on Silt Striders, large insects utilized for the purposes of traveling long distances, he normally found himself in trouble for different reasons. S'maash generally skulked into a mage's workshop in order to catch a glimpse of a master spell craftsman at work. Most of his endeavors ended with a slap to the back of the head followed by the derogatory "you s'wit!", but that did little dissuade him.

Upon reaching adulthood in the year 4 E 221, S'maash, a striking young Dark Elf with a shock of gray hair on his head and a gray-blue complexion, took a job as an inventory manager for a local union of mages in the town of L'Thu Oad, a small settlement southwest of Narsis. His job with the Mages' Coalition consisted of little more than taking notes on their studies and cataloguing their findings. Other menial tasks involving organizing reagents, Soul Gems, and magickal equipment kept him busy enough.

Although he did learn a great deal about enchantments, S'maash's curiosity could not be satiated. During that time, he held knowledge of over fifty such enchantments but knowledge led to more curiosity. So he spoke to one of the elder mages, an old Altmer, or High Elf, named Rosoleola, the head of the Mages' Coalition in L'Thu Oad. The head mage was ancient and surly with a shimmering gold hue to his skin.

"Master?" S'maash called.

The old Altmer was stooped over an Arcane Enchanter, a vicious looking table adorned with the skull of a three-eyed beast, several candles, and a misty green bauble. Rosoleola turned to the young S'maash while flipping through the pages of a journal.

"What now?" Rosoleola asked with irritation.

"I couldn't help but notice. You're attempting to enchant that Steel Dagger with Fire Damage," S'maash said, stating the obvious.

Rosoleola winced as he returned his steady gaze to his journal. He said nothing to the young Dunmer, so S'maash stirred nervously before breaking the silence.

"Why is it that we can imbue a weapon with Fire Damage but not a shield or gauntlets?" S'maash asked.

"S'wit… must you ask such a foolish question?" Rosoleola responded bluntly.

His voice was raspy, full of arrogance.

"I'm afraid I don't understand Sir. I've been watching and taking notes for these past seven years. Along the way I have realized many truths but some of them seem to have to no logical base," S'maash complained.

The old Altmer turned to S'maash. After eying the Dunmer he pushed an errant strand of silver hair behind his ear. He looked upon the Dark Elf with contempt, something not uncommon for an Altmer of any age or stature to do to virtually anyone who was not an Altmer.

"What are you babbling about now boy?" Rosoleola asked.

"Sir, a Flame Cloak spell can be cast by a mage. This provides him the ability to damage an opponent by merely standing adjacent him without so much as warming his own skin. Why not can a piece of Iron Armor be enchanted as such?" S'maash asked brazenly.

Rosoleola was taken aback. He stared at the youth for a moment. The boy stood there in the torch light with his feet firmly planted on the stone floor of the workshop. The fires of passion and knowledge burned brightly in his red eyes. Rosoleola adjusted his burgundy robes before answering.

"Well now that is a question isn't it…?" he said as he looked up to the high ceiling.

His tone had changed. It carried a hint of ancient wonder, of memories long forgotten. The torch fires wavered with the forces of magicka in the workshop, casting shadows of the banners and tapestries depicting the progressions of arcane studies. S'maash kept a firm gaze on the old Altmer, awaiting a response. After a moment of silence, S'maash adjusted his own faded blue robes. Rosoleola took a pensive inhalation before providing his insight.

"I'm afraid I can't really answer that. Now get back to work, you have better things to do then question magickal theory. Go make sure all the reagents are accounted for. Last time I looked for Comberry it took me twenty minutes to find where Naralia put them," Rosoleola barked.

S'maash nodded to his master. The response given was somewhat less impressive than he had anticipated. More accurately, it was less inspiring than S'maash had hoped. Rosoleola gazed at the boy as he left. The truth was the old Altmer was impressed, but Altmer were not given to showing such things, especially not to non-Altmer. So Rosoleola returned to his enchantment and S'maash returned to his menial tasks.

After reorganizing the reagents, the Argonian, Barters-with-Whispers, walked into the large storage room with a new task for S'maash.

"Dunmer, fetch me the tome, The Studies of Wards," the green, lizard-woman hissed.

S'maash stood from his crouching position as he turned a jar of Bone Meal so the label faced outwardly. He looked upon her. Barters-with-Whispers was an ancient, decrepit Argonian. Her faded yellow robes draped off her wiry figure. Still, her demeanor was rather imposing.

"Yes Ma'am," he replied.

S'maash traveled through the short hallway over bronze carpeting to the study. While the floor of the workshop was of cold stone, its walls were gorgeous mahogany with darkened hues of deep brown. Massive wooden shelving lined the walls of the library. Each shelf was filled from one end to the other with ancient tomes. A mental segue took S'maash from his intended task. _Dwemer Magick of Old_, he thought to himself as his eyes caught glimpse of a leather bound book. He slowly and carefully took it from its place. The leather creaked as he opened it. While scanning over the pages, he saw the name Volendrung, an ancient war hammer. _The Dwemer knew quite a bit about forging magick items_.

"What are you doing you lazy layabout!" Barters-with-Whispers shouted from across the room.

Startled, S'maash dropped the book. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He stood with a weak smile, picked the tome from the floor, and replaced it on the shelf before grabbing what he was supposed to have grabbed in the first place. He handed the book over to the scaly green woman. It was difficult to read Argonians. Their scales made it difficult to detect emotion from their faces. That day it was obvious she was not pleased.

"Apologies," S'maash said.

"S'wit," she grumbled.

The Argonian took the tome with narrowed eyes. She blinked once then left him to own devices. A new curiosity brewed inside S'maash. He ran out of the study, down the hall, and back to the Arcane Enchanter where Rosoleola was picking Soul Gems for his next task. The magickal gems were shades of blues and purple.

"Master," S'maash called.

"Mmm? What now?" the Altmer asked without looking at S'maash.

"Which is the closest Dwemer ruin?" he asked.

"Oh, let's see, should be Damlzthur. Why?" Rosoleola asked.

"I need to study their artifacts. I have to know how they were able to create Volendrung," S'maash answered.

Rosoleola sighed as he shook his head in desperation. The boy's inability to focus on his prescribed tasks was irritating the Altmer beyond belief.

"What nonsense are you spouting? Don't you have better things to do?" Rosoleola asked.

"With respect master, no I don't. I need to understand," S'maash replied.

The old Altmer stood as straight as he was capable of. Finally he turned to eye the Dark Elf.

"Mmm," Rosoleola muttered as he stroked his long beard. "Well… it isn't safe you know."

S'maash was slightly surprised. Not only did Rosoleola's voice lose the twinge of aggravation, he had not expected the Altmer to be understanding, much less be concerned for his safety.

"You really care about Enchanting don't you? I've watched you, you know? You've come a long way in a short time. I undertook a few quests of my own around your age. I'll tell you what. I'll give you an advance on your pay. Hire some men from the Reyda Tong. Maybe you can find what you're looking for." Rosoleola said slowly.

Again S'maash was astonished.

"Thank you master!" he replied gleefully.

"Yes, yes. Here, this should be enough," the Altmer said with a smile as he handed S'maash a small Coin Purse. "Don't get yourself killed. You have a brilliant mind but I fear that some things simply are, so don't get your hopes up. You hear me?"

"Yes master. Thank you again," S'maash replied taking the gold.

Rosoleola replied with a simple waving of his hand shooing the boy away but the old Altmer's aggravation could not hinder S'maash's spirit. He smiled to himself as he ran out of the workshop, across the stone paved road to a large stone building. The building was home of the Reyda Tong, a sort of guild for fighters in Morrowind. It's appearance came about after the dissolution of the Empire's grip.

It was a warm evening in L'Thu Oad and a bead of sweat ran down S'maash's face as he knocked on the large wooden door. A sign above read: _Reyda Tong Fighters_. It opened seconds later revealing another Dark Elf who looked much like S'maash.

"Oh it's you. Come in brother," the Elf replied.

"S'maath, Rosoleola gave me an advance on my pay. I need to hire a few of you to travel into Damlzthur," S'maash said excitedly.

S'maath, who was in fact S'maash's brother, was a few years older and much stockier. His thick gray hair grew sharply and unkempt all about his head.

"Sounds dangerous. What has he got you searching for?" S'maath asked.

"You misunderstand. The research is mine. I was reading through a tome on Dwemer magick. As you well know I've been enthralled with the mysteries of Enchanting for some time. I believe there may be some answers stowed away in their old ruins." S'maash explained.

The brothers walked through the foyer, passing a rack of swords. Much like the mages' workshop, the Reyda Tong's office was bedecked with amazing tapestries depicting its own history, a much more violent one. It too was built of stone floors and beautiful woods.

After a few more steps, the two found themselves among mixed company, an Imperial lad, a Redguard woman, and another Dark Elf. The warriors all recognized S'maash and greeted him with a simple nod of the head. The Dunmer brothers took seats in a large room practically filled with mead and weapons. A fire burned in the stone pit at the far end of the room. The gentle crackling kept the room from total silence.

"Fara, my brother says he wants to hire us for a trip into Damlzthur," S'maath announced.

Fara, the Redguard, adjusted her Iron Breastplate as she fidgeted in her seat. Her dark face crinkled a bit while she considered the proposition.

"We have plenty of work here," she replied coldly.

"I have payment," S'maash interjected.

"How much?" The Imperial asked.

S'maath turned to his brother.

"Well," S'maash started as he pulled the string on the Coin Purse. He poured the gold coins onto a round table by the Imperial. "25 gold."

The three warriors laughed at the paltry sum but S'maath was sympathetic. Once the laughter died down, he took his glare off his comrades to look at his brother.

"How long would this trip be?" he asked.

S'maash took a moment to think before answering.

"A week…" he said quietly.

"We're not riskin' life an' limb for 25 gold boy," the other Dark Elf replied.

S'maash looked at his brother questioningly.

"Why don't you go home for now? I'll see what we can do," S'maath instructed his sibling.

So S'maash took the gold into his Coin Purse and left for home slightly ashamed but not defeated. The walk home was a rather slow one. Night had just settled in before he arrived at his own front door. Insects chirped for a moment then S'maash entered his family's abode. The shutting of the door behind him shut out the noise as well. With his parents deceased, S'maath and S'maash lived in the modest home together. S'maash busied himself with dinner for the two. Not long after, S'maath entered the house finding Rat Stew warming over the fire.

"I had a long conversation with Fara," S'maath yelled out not seeing his younger brother.

S'maash entered the living space where he found his brother standing proudly.

"What did she say?" he asked.

"So long as the Reyda Tong can lay claim to any profitable artifacts they'll back your endeavor," S'maath replied.

"Good news then. I'd like to set out as soon as possible," S'maash said.

"We can leave first thing in the morning. Numerius, the Imperial will join us as well as Fara. It will just be the four of us so we'll need to be cautious," S'maath explained.

"Of course," S'maash answered.

**Chapter Two Journey to Damlzthur**

The night passed relatively quickly, though S'maash could scarcely sleep. When the sun shown through the window, S'maash was already packed for the week and ready to go. Moments later, his brother awoke. He had also packed the previous night. They met in the living area in good spirits.

"All set then?" S'maath asked.

"I believe so. I don't need much," S'maash answered.

"What are we looking for anyway?" S'maath asked.

"I'll explain when we're all together," S'maash stated.

S'maath nodded in approval. The Dark Elf brothers locked their abode behind them before setting foot upon their path. In the dewy morning, they strode to the Reyda Tong's office. There, the other two warriors met them. Fara wore heavy Iron Armor, leaving only her head free of metal plating. An Iron Mace hung by her right hip. Numerius was covered in Leather Armor, hiding his thick black hair. He wore his Imperial Bow and quiver over his shoulders.

"I've brought your gear," Numerius said.

More leather apparel sat by his feet awaiting S'maath's body. After donning his protective equipment, S'maath sheathed his Steel Sword.

"Is the boy going to wear anything?" Fara asked.

She looked S'maash over. He wore only his blue robes. The clothing possessed a minor enchantment, the ability to recover Magicka more quickly. No weapons hung about his waist and no armor sat draped upon his body.

"I'm fine. Listen, I very much appreciate your help in this matter. This is very important to me. For a first trip I don't expect to find much. My hopes are that we may come across a tome on magickal theory. The Dwemer employed a slight variation on the schools of magick we use today. I-," S'maash's explanation was cut short by Fara's interruption.

"I don't care about magickal theory. If you're looking for a tome, that's well and good. You keep your eyes open for books. We're looking for something to sell. Let's move." Fara ordered.

S'maath smiled to his brother. It was evident that Fara was the leader of the small band. S'maash was unfamiliar with rank in the Reyda Tong but understood well enough that seniority dictated the taking of charge. So the crew pressed on and left for Damlzthur. A few moments of silent reverie passed while boots trudged over early morning dew. It was not long before paved roads turned to dirt. Then the chatter began.

S'maash listened to the warriors. They were hoping for all sorts of valiant battles, riches, and stories to be told afterwards. S'maash was not interested in such things. His happiness was predicated on obtaining more knowledge. As he followed behind his hired guard, his mind turned to questions. _Will we find anything? Dwemer ruins have been around for long. It's hard to imagine anything might have been left behind after so many expeditions. If anything were left behind, it would likely be books. Bull headed warriors often leave behind the most valuable treasure, knowledge,_ he thought to himself. His ponderings had left him oblivious to the fact the warriors were twenty paces ahead of him. A sudden sound demanded his attention.

S'maash stopped abruptly. He turned his gaze towards the direction of the noise. They had entered a forested area known to harbor Alits. Suddenly, a large Alit charged at him, its awkward movement a consequence of having only two legs and a large mouth. Unable to utter a sound, S'maash simply stood there in shock. Gaping maw with razor teeth ambled quickly in his direction. The leathery-skinned, purple, menace was hungry for Elf meat.

A sudden flash of darkness obscured S'maash's vision. A fraction of a second later, he heard the screams and battle cries of his crew as they slayed the beast. Alits were not altogether difficult to kill. The creature did not so much as manage to bite anyone. Fara struck it across the top of its head with her Iron Mace. It swooned from the blow and S'maath ran it through with his own blade. Fara shook some gunk from her mace then approached S'maash. Her dark eyes were fierce.

"You have to be more careful. Keep pace with us or go back home," she scolded.

S'maash swallowed hard before nodding in accordance. He wanted to thank her but she walked away. They continued their journey as though nothing had happened but S'maash's heart was still pounding. It soon settled itself in his chest as the warriors joked over the fun of the fight. It was not fun for S'maash. It was dangerous and scary but it was only an Alit after all.

S'maath looked back to his brother who was then keeping pace quite well.

"Not too shaken up are you?" he asked.

"No, not anymore," S'maash replied with a smile.

His brother hit him softly in the shoulder.

"Never were a fighter," S'maath commented.

"Is that so bad?" S'maash asked.

"Of course not, you're a scholar and that's good but you know Destruction magick. You could have burned that thing to a crisp," S'maath said.

"I suppose. I've never actually used an attack spell in defense before," S'maash said.

"Maybe you'll learn more about magick by using it than reading about it in books," S'maath suggested.

It was true. The brothers held each other's eyes for a moment longer. S'maash knew most knowledge was derived from practical applications. Unfortunately, there didn't seem to be anymore to be gained by practical Enchanting. The past few hundred years yielded no real advancement in the field of Enchanting. It was that oddity that drove S'maash forward.

The remainder of the day passed by quietly, only S'maash thought a little less and looked around a little more. He was not going to be caught off guard again. The group then broke for a rest. A heat had turned morning due to midday humidity during their trek.

"We could keep moving," Numerius said with his harsh voice.

"No. My brother grows weary. His mind could roam for hours but his feet tire quickly, besides, I hunger," S'maath countered.

"Yes, and I thirst," Fara added.

The group took seats on the leaf covered ground. They had moved off the dirt road to a beaten path. Overhead, the sun shown brightly, casting shadows of the surrounding foliage. It wavered only slightly from a rather warm wind. S'maash relaxed his back against a tree, basking in the cool of the shade. He was not a big eater but thirsted instead. He noticed the fighters were eyeing him. Their stares did not hold disdain or contempt. They were, after all, often hired to accompany less athletic travelers on unsafe business. S'maash grew curious.

"What is it?" he asked addressing them all.

S'maath looked his compatriots over. With his mouth slightly open, his eyes darted about a bit as he took in the sight of his compatriots. He then turned to his brother as the others answered.

"Damlzthur might be infested with dangerous creatures or worse," Fara stated.

"Aye, Automatons," Numerius added.

S'maash ran long fingers through his mohawk. Automatons were bizarre contraptions created by the long gone Dwemer. The mechanical guardians were known to roam the halls of ruins like Damlzthur.

"I am well aware but I have to… to find something," he said, looking away.

"And if you don't?" S'maath asked.

S'maash was pensive. He returned his eyes to the group.

"It is a possibility, I know. I can't sit around L'Thu Oad pouring over the same monotony…" his voice trailed off as he looked away again.

Fara stood and stretched her legs.

"I hear you Elf. It was a similar reason my family moved to Morrowind ages ago," she said.

S'maath met his brother's eyes and smiled. Soon after, they put away their food and drink for more walking. The sun slowly worked its way over the sky and the horizon grew dark. Once the sun set, the small creatures of Morrowind began their ritual music and dance. Several insects chirped in unison. The journey had lasted most of the day. With darkness settling in, Fara decided it was time to make camp.

Pelt tents were erected and sleeping rolls unfurled. Numerius opted for first watch but S'maash interjected.

"I can take it. I won't fall to sleep easily with so much excitement and wonder on my mind," he said.

Numerius laughed as though it were a joke. S'maash was put off by his response but before he formulated a reply, his brother jumped in.

"I'll take first with my brother. How's that?" S'maath asked the group.

"Fine by me," Fara replied.

She then looked to Numerius, who would not dream of contradicting her. With that, he nodded to the Elf brothers.

"Thank you," S'maash said.

"Of course," S'maath answered.

First watch held little interested. The brothers discussed possible hazards Damlzthur might hold. Conversation then turned to magickal theory, which was enough to put S'maath to rest. Once S'maash heard his brother's snores, he woke Numerius for second watch. S'maash then slept. No dreams entered his vision that night. Weary from travel, sleep was all his mind had to offer.

The following morning, Fara roused them. It took only mere minutes to pack their gear and continue the long journey. It was believed their arrival was less than twelve hours away. That time around, although sore, S'maash did not want to stop.

"There will be time for rest once we make our entrance." S'maash said.

"Fair enough then." Fara replied.

They continued their journey. The beautiful mushrooms and flowers of Morrowind caught their sight as they made jaunty discussions about treasures to be found. Numerius was hoping to bring back some Dwemer metal for their house Smith. Fara wanted only coin, so she spoke of artwork and small tools.

"And you brother?" S'maash asked.

"I appreciate the experience. I have a good home, food, friends, and family. My life is good, you might think it simple, and you might be right brother, but it is good to me." S'maath replied.

S'maash always took his brother's words to heart. _But it is not enough for me. My experience will come from unraveling these mysteries. I must find something, some way. I refuse to accept these limitations…_. His thoughts dwindled once his feet ached. Fortunately, Damlzthur was in sight.

**Chapter Three Ruins and Battle**

The once mighty city walls of Damlzthur stood as little more than rubble before the group. Sight of brown hills with scattered gray stone architecture was prevalent. They pressed on a few more paces before working their way over the fallen stone. Searching for an entry, Numerius rounded a large wall to the East with Fara as the brothers rounded it to the west. Appearance suggested a former tower long since abandoned.

"I have located the exterior door!" Fara was heard yelling.

S'maath and S'maash ran over the stone rubble to her. There, she stood before an askew brass-like door. Evidently, time and pressure had forced the foundation beneath the soil to list a bit towards the north end, their own right hand side. The group worked quickly to clear stone debris from the door, then pushed their way in. A stale wind assaulted their olfactory senses for a moment. Immediately, the droning of gears and steam rushing through pipes assaulted their auditory senses. The excitement was palpable. For a lingering moment, they simply stood, awed by the ancient Dwemer.

"Alright, we need to be wary of traps," S'maash said.

All four of them peered down the tall, long, stone hallway. At the end of the hallway was only darkness. Numerius produced a torch. Before he lit his torch, S'maash raised a right hand overhead casting a Candle Light spell. The illumination from his magickal beacon did little to bring radiance to the far end of the hall but so long as the team stood together while moving forward slowly, the spell, a wavering bauble of light, remained over S'maash's head.

"Nicely done," Fara said.

She took to the forefront, leading the team. As she did so, she maintained a slow enough pace for S'maash to keep his light close to the group.

"S'maath, Numerius, keep your eyes peeled for floor traps," Fara commanded.

"Aye," both man and mer replied.

They treaded carefully and quietly, their footsteps drowned out by the sound of the ruin itself. Like a living, breathing beast it ticked, clanked, and sent roaring steam through its walls. The Candle Light revealed the entry hall was quite extensive. While the others had little trouble moving, S'maash was thrown off by the tilt in the floor. Like the door, the entire hallway listed slightly. Then they reached a corner.

Fara raised a hand, calling the group to a halt. She stepped forward to peer around the juncture. Some small Dwemer shelving lined the left side of the corridor, which was much straighter than the previous one. It was difficult to tell but there seemed to be some more doorways along the left side of the hall. Fara motioned for the rest to resume movement down the wonderful and ancient architecture. Beautiful filigree was carved into the stone and more brass-like metal adorned the stone junctures.

"I thought we were going to rest upon arrival," Numerius remarked.

"Don't be a fool. We'll rest after having taken stock of our surroundings," Fara chastised him.

Numerius winced but she was right. They pressed on. After inspecting the shelving, and a few of the other rooms, they found little in the way of treasures. Weary and hungry, the group took to resting in one of the larger rooms. Fara shut the door as the others unpacked. S'maash stopped to look at her quizzically.

"In the case of intrusion, whatever might be coming will at least have to get through this door," she said to him before he uttered a word.

"This is why she leads us," S'maath added.

After garnering a few hours' rest, the group left their gear in the room as a sort of base camp. S'maath pulled some Parchment from his robes. With Charcoal, he started sketching a map, providing the luxury of referring back to where they had started, should the need arise. Hours and hours of searching yielded only ruined tomes, old dishes, bed sheets, and broken tools. Apart from the unnerving clatter of Dwemer gears built into the stonework, there was nothing extraordinary. The first day of the expedition ended with moving camp to a new location, one quieter than the previous.

As was custom when traveling, the group took watch once more and once more they all rose to Fara's calling. Fara led them in a similar fashion the following day. As they progressed into the ruins, the floors and stairs led deeper. Most of the paths were blocked by cave-ins or rubble but a few halls led the group to a large round room. That particular room provided excellent lighting from a gas-powered lamp at its center. The light was more than ample for S'maash to catch a depiction of Dwemer forging along the stone walls surrounding the room. Carvings provided a glimpse into the ancient Dwemer's passion for Smithing.

"What is this room?" S'maath asked.

They all looked to his brother.

"I'm not sure. Some kind of study hall?" he replied.

There were some ruined stone seats and tables. A few books lied strewn about the floor but little else. No gears or pipes led into the room. The carvings in the walls were magnificent but provided no insight to any mystery they were looking into. As they moved about the room, a distinct clicking sound echoed throughout. Numerius's eyes went wide as he felt his foot sink just a bit into the floor. With lightning speed, Fara bolted across the room, hopped over a chair, and crashed into the Imperial. A plethora of darts flew over them for a moment. A maddening sound of repeated metal shards crashing into the stone structure prevailed for seconds, then dead silence.

"Be more careful you idiot!" she yelled at him.

"Thanks and get off me. Your armor is heavy you know," Numerius said in jest.

After recovering, they all garnered a refreshed respect for the old traps still lining the Dwemer hallways and rooms.

"Pretty close," S'maash whispered.

"Aye," S'maath answered.

"It's nothing," Numerius said.

Fara simply eyed him and shook her head. They carefully left the round room, proceeding down another sloped corridor. Dwarven Metal piping lined both sides of the ceiling. S'maath spotted a thin slit in the center of the floor running the length before them.

"Hold!" he called out.

A pang of fear jolted everyone's heart as he scanned the floor.

"Careful, I believe there might be more traps," he said, pointing out the furrow in the stone floor.

They pressed on a few dozen paces when S'maash's Candle Light revealed a pressure plate. S'maath had been correct. The ruin was dangerous enough as it was but no creatures or Automatons were in sight. That was most curious for S'maash._ Should there not at least be wreckage left behind?_ He wondered but there was no way to know. And so another day of nothing went by. Again camp was moved. Soon it would be time for a return to the surface. S'maash grew despondent as he tried to sleep.

There had been a good chance that their search revealed nothing but he hoped the next day was to be rewarding. Finally he drifted off to sleep. Dreams of home washed over his mind and heart. The journey had been S'maash's first trip from home to an uninhabited area. When he awoke, he was happy to see his friends. While Fara and Numerius had been hired, they had become accustomed to S'maash's presence. He was, after all, their guildmate's brother.

"After tonight's rest we need to make our return," Fara stated.

"Aye, we'll be camping back here then?" S'maath asked.

"Yes. S'maash, let me see your map," she said.

S'maash brought it forth. Fara took it gently. She scanned it for a moment before handing it back to him.

"We'll work our way back to the large door we passed yesterday," she announced.

They had in fact walked by a rather large Dwemer door. Her reasoning had dictated an organized search in a sort of circle was more productive than trying to run all over the ruin. After a few days in the abandoned city, she had discovered the pattern with which Damlzthur was built. It was evident to her that behind the large door would be a new section of the ruin, though it might have caved in. Upon their arrival, she and Numerius pushed the massive door open.

"Good," she said as they walked through.

The new area appeared larger in general, more spaced out. The corridor they traversed was broader and lined with Dwarven Metal bars, housing Dwemer steam contraptions. After a few moments of walking, the large hall they came to an area, still in the hall, with lighting on both sides, built into the structure. More gas lamps sat in alcoves high above them. Suddenly a loud roaring pushed through the walls. Something was on the move.

With ears pressed against the wall, the group exchanged glances. Slowly, they followed the sound along the wall as it moved. It ceased by a sort of porthole. The lid dropped open and a large Dwarven Metal ball fell before their feet. The plates from which it was built spun as an Automaton unfolded, a Dwarven Sphere. Quick and powerful, the Automaton stood over six feet in height when erect. Its spherical bottom allowed for easy movement in any direction. Built from gears, plates, and bars, the metallic menace was deigned to defend its creators.

S'maash was startled by the new situation. With wide eyes he slowly turned his head. For a second he considered running._ No, not this time._ As the Sphere lurched forward, Numerius and S'maath jumped back. Fara drew her mace. She ducked beneath the sword arm of the Dwemer machine then smashed her mace across its metal face.

S'maash was then witness to something magnificent, beautiful even. The warriors moved as one, they fought as part of a whole. After Fara dealt her blow, she stepped her left foot over her right then spun away from the Sphere to its right flank. It was then, that Numerius, sword drawn, thrust his blade into the gears of the machine's sword arm. With one arm disabled, the Sphere pointed its crossbow at S'maath, who was one step behind Numerius. He then followed Fara's maneuver. Both of them stood behind the machine, taking whacks at its weaker hinges, protruding from the spherical bottom.

Although the warriors were fighting well, the machine managed to fire a bolt from its crossbow arm. Numerius was too close. While he was trying to dislodge his blade, the blot struck his flank. The pain folded him over. He fell, a crumpled mess, to the ground. A subtle grunt of pain escaped his lips but little else.

"Do something!" Fara yelled to S'maash.

The scene had played out rather quickly but S'maash snapped to attention. With one hand he cast an Iron Flesh spell for protection, a blue glow covered his being. The other hand took hold of frozen magicka and he fired an Ice Spike. The frozen crystalline projectile did little damage upon impact but the cold effect of the spell slowed the creature. To S'maash's dismay, the Dwarven Sphere quickly reloaded a bolt, pointing it at him. He took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

S'maath stepped onto the rear side of the Sphere's leg joints and jammed his blade underneath the machine's head. The Steel Sword protruded between the Automatons metal frame. Fara continued to rain iron blows against its back plates. In response, the Sphere spun, then rolled backwards into the walls causing S'maath to fall.

S'maash fired another Ice Spike into the Sphere's face. His brother scrambled to his feet for an attempt to recover his sword, which had fallen during the skirmish. Once more, the Sphere lurched forward striking with the sword arm. The damaged gear, and lodged blade, hindered its movement but still, the large sword crashed down into Fara's chest plate. She fell from the impact, relatively unharmed. S'maath, sword in hand, charged the machine, striking it repeatedly. Small plates and levers broke off. Fara recovered and helped to end the machine's onslaught. The battle was over. The Dwarven Sphere fell to pieces.

The group ran over to Numerius. He lied on his side. A small pool of blood had developed on the ground under him. Fara placed her hand on his shoulder. He groaned in reply.

"Can you do something?" S'maath asked.

S'maash nodded.

"We need to remove the bolt first," he said.

"Do it," Numerius growled.

They rolled him over. S'maath placed a knee onto his abdomen, gripped the bolt with both hands, and pulled it out. Numerius screamed in pain but S'maash quickly held hands poised for a Healing Hands spell. Numerius was enveloped in healing light. After mere seconds, he was returned to fighting shape. Upon standing, Numerius looked down to S'maash, placed a firm grip on his shoulder, and nodded in approval.

"You handled yourself well S'maash," Fara said.

S'maash looked to his brother who was beaming with pride. Together, they attempted to sort through the remaining scraps of the Dwarven Sphere. From it, they recovered some Bent Dwemer Metal, a Common Soul Gem, but little else. Fara handed the gem to S'maash who pocketed it.

"We should press on," S'maash suggested.

"Aye," Fara replied.

So they pushed onward. By following the pipes and lighted ceiling they reached a barred gate. Numerius shook the gate with both hands.

"Locked," he said turning to S'maath.

He nodded. Taking a knee before the lock, he produced his tools. Carefully, he set to work feeling the tumblers with the pick. After what felt like an eternity, and two picks later, the tumblers were properly aligned. The gate was unlocked. It had been difficult to tell through the gate what was behind it. With S'maash's newly lit Candle Light spell, they saw some nice vases. Fara took one, rolling it between her hands. It was not large, less than a foot, and a watery blue with gold trim.

"This should fetch a few Septims," she said.

Apart from the few vases, was a set of Dwemer Cogs and a beautiful Diamond. The Diamond created a glint in Fara's eye. She could not help but smile.

"Well I'm sold," she said.

"And I got some metal so… we could turn back now," Numerius said.

He prodded at the hole in his Leather Armor. The others understood his sentiment. They turned to S'maash for his input, as they were in his employ. He passed a glance over each of them.

"Just a little deeper," he replied.

They nodded and pressed forward. Hours went by as they traversed the monstrous hallway. After taking a break for food and water, they reached another large door. It took all of the men and mer to push the enormous door open. What was revealed to them was rather frightening. Spiraling stone bridges with no rails led into the deep. Far, far below them, they saw only bubbling lava.

"Didn't expect this," S'maash said.

"We… could head down," Fara added, hesitantly.

"I don't know," S'maath replied.

S'maash moved his lips over his teeth. He was unsure. _Logically, if there was some amazing discovery to be made it would be down there…_ his thoughts trailed away. He knew the answer.

"No. We should turn back," he said.

His brother was shocked.

"Are you certain?" S'maath asked.

"Yes. We should leave for now. We can always come back, perhaps with a few more men," S'maash said.

"Excellent decision," Fara commented.

So they treaded the hall back to their camp. The entire trip, battle included, had taken over twelve hours. After a deep sleep, and being wakened by Fara, they packed their tents and rolls. Their return to Damlzthur's entry was a long and uneventful one. The trip back home was much of the same. It had taken one day less, since they had not found what they were looking for, and it was a welcome respite. The following morning S'maash returned to the mages' workshop.

**Chapter Four A Change of Heart**

"Mmm, I thought as much. It's good to hear you made a safe return from that damnable ruin but you need to know there's nothing down there, nothing but death and ash. Settle down here and keep working away," Rosoleola said.

His tone had not been condescending. Some of the other mages were much more arrogant. They chastised S'maash. They pointed out all the flaws in his search. Secretly, they were jealous that he challenged magickal theory. Moreover, they disliked the fact that he was willing to try something different. After they succeeding in weakening his spirit, S'maash went home for the night. His brother was already home and happy to greet him.

"We all received promotions," S'maath said, smiling.

"Truly? That is excellent, but why?" he asked.

"Because travelers of all sorts are willing to pay top coin for escorts who can say 'I have braved Dwemer ruins, fought their machines, and lived'. Simple really," S'maath replied.

S'maash smiled weakly. He was happy for his brother but was growing despondent over his own lack of success. Words of his fellow mages rang throughout his mind. He had not noticed his brother moved closer to squat beside him.

"What troubles you?" S'maath asked.

So S'maash told him about the words given unto him from the more experienced mages.

"Don't be foolish brother. You need not listen to them. You are the only person I have met who can truly discover something new. I admit your studies bore me but still, you must follow your passion, your heart." S'maath stated with concern.

"Thank you. I will consider it," S'maash answered.

It was a few days later that S'maash was caught off guard. As normal, he was rearranging reagents and dusting tomes at the mages' workshop when a glint off the Welkynd stone caught his eye. He stared at it. The soft greenish light held his eyes. S'maash was aware that those stones allowed a mage to replenish his spirit. Thoughts of his studies pulled him away from the monotony of busy work. _They believed Fire was a corruption of the true form of magick, Light. I wonder. Did the Ayleids have Light Enchantments?_ _Rosoleola might have been correct about Damlzthur but he mentioned nothing of traipsing through Ayleid ruins_. S'maash, impetuous, made his decision once more.

The young Dark Elf simply left work without telling anyone of his plans. Rosoleola had been kind enough but the rest were just arrogant know nothings who mimicked what little they garnered from known studies. Their scorns were of little concern, so S'maash ran home to make plans for a move to Cyrodiil. He hoped his brother would join him.

It was a few hours before his brother arrived. During the slow passage of time, S'maash thought out a speech but whatever words he strung together felt contrived. S'maath entered the living space, passing the fire beneath the mantle as he approached S'maash. S'maath was all smiles.

"Some good news I take it?" S'maash asked.

"Indeed. I'm going to accompany some priests on their journey to Balmora. The coin is more than ample," S'maath explained.

"Oh," S'maash said, his voice almost depressing.

"What's this? I thought my brother might be happier for me," S'maath said.

"I am, truly. I just… I think I'm moving to Cyrodiil. I was hoping you might join me," S'maash stated.

S'maath, in total surprise, took a seat on a wicker chair next to his brother.

"Where did this come from?" he asked.

S'maash explained his theories once more, that time referring to some notes he had made on Ayleid ruins. Copies from texts, nothing concrete.

"Fascinating. You should go," S'maath replied slowly.

S'maath was concerned for his brother. He was aware that an insatiable yearning for magickal studies brewed inside him. _It would be wrong to try to talk him out of it,_ he thought. The flicker of flame reflected off S'maash's red eyes.

"Maybe I can wait for your return. Then we could go together," S'maash said, smiling.

S'maath placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"No. My life is here, with the Reyda Tong, this is my future and I enjoy it. Your future rests in your hands alone. It will not be an easy road but if you postpone once, you will postpone again. The longer you wait, the slimmer your chances of going, then the less likely it will be for you to discover what you are meant to.

You are ready S'maash. The time for you to begin is now. It is reasonable for you to be wary of traveling on your own, away from your family, from familiar surroundings but if you don't follow this path, the road you were born for, you will live with regrets and scorn," S'maath spoke sincerely.

"I don't know that I can do this on my own," S'maash complained.

"You are capable and you are not alone. Our ancestors are with you. Focus on your goals. Nothing will stand in your way," S'maath said.

For a moment they were silent. The fire crackled quietly next to them. The wooden room echoed their emotions. S'maash stirred first.

"I'll have to hire a Silt Strider to Bravil…" he started.

"I can give you extra coin. I've saved quite a bit. I could spare… oh, about 100 Septims," S'maath said.

"That is appreciated. I really don't have much to pack. I can leave tomorrow," S'maash said.

The brothers looked each other over. They had been there for one another for a few years. It was difficult to part ways but they both knew they would reunite again. A bittersweet emotion hung in the air. While S'maash was indeed nervous, he was also quite excited. This was going to be his first real attempt on discoveries of his very own.

"Then you should rest tonight and we will say goodbye tomorrow," S'maath replied.

The warm night passed slowly. Both Elves had a hard time falling asleep and both Elves had a big morning to look forward to. When that morning came, S'maash rose to find that his brother had packed some extra gear for him. S'maath had included a Steel Dagger for protection, new Fur Boots, and extra food and drink. S'maash gathered his gear before finding his brother outside sitting on the stoop.

"So you're all set then? I will walk you to the Silt Strider," S'maath said with a smile.

Together they walked along the paved road as they spoke of plans for arrival in Cyrodiil. S'maash was going to stay in Bravil until he found the best Ayleid ruin to study. Then, he would need to hire guides or a group for protection, in case there was trouble in the area. Slow, meaningful steps took them towards the large insect.

Cyrodiil had suffered tremendously over the past many years, and the few decades especially. After the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, The Empire had become a puppet for the Aldmeri Dominion. If that alone had not been enough Alduin, the world eater, had risen. While it was Skyrim he had terrorized, the Dragons had found their way across the borders. They had a small effect on Morrowind but not as drastic as in Cyrodiil. It was unfortunate that during the same time, the Stormcloaks began a rebellion.

The defeat of General Tullius and the death of many Imperial soldiers left The Empire in a weakened state. Furthermore, the murder of Emperor Titus Meade the Second at the hands of The Dark Brotherhood left The Empire all but destroyed. While this Bolstered the stranglehold of the Aldmeri Dominion, it also created a wave of crime and uncertainty in all of Cyrodiil.

News had reached Morrowind that the whole of the Imperial province was awash in blood and terror. S'maash was aware of the fact. He was not so much afraid of the crime but afraid of the possibility of being marooned in Cyrodiil with no options short of working for scraps at a local inn. He expressed that last bit of information to his brother as he boarded the giant insect.

"You will find a way brother and if not you will write me and I will come get you. There is no shame in failing at a task, so long as you do not allow that failure to prevent you from further attempts at success," S'maath assured him.

They smiled to each other and waived. S'maash boarded the Silt Strider and left for Cyrodiil. The ride was rather slow paced. He glanced at the landscape from high above. The Silt Strider took him as far as the border. A small settlement of Dunmer built cabins along the eroded mountains. They were always looking for new pilgrims to accompany into Bravil or the Nibenay. So, S'maash hired a small group for a two-day walk to Bravil.

The Dunmer were little more than a band of friends, warriors and mages well versed in the local terrain. Their leader, an older woman named Sahla, was aging but lean. She led the group deciding when to break, resume, and teaching about the paths they traversed. Upon arrival, S'maash paid the remainder of the gold, as they had asked for half up front and the remainder upon safe arrival. He bid them safe travels and spent the night at The Lonely Suitor Lodge, Bravil's inn.

The city was comprised of little more than wooden homes. While they were neatly designed, the rustic appeal was nothing overly special. At the center of the town, the Lucky Old Lady awaited travelers. It was legend that the statue of the elderly woman might bless them with good luck. Other legends, ones no longer told, indicated something quite a bit more sinister.

The Lonely Suitor Lodge was as modest as the town of Bravil. It too was rather simple in its design of wooden walls and floors. At least it was clean and warm. It was at The Lonely Suitor that S'maash listened to an interesting bit of information.

A bard was performing a song about Umaril, the Unfeathered, who had apparently reappeared during the time of Martin Septim. The song spoke of the reunion of The Knights of the Nine. A few patrons booed the poor bard, shouting that Talos was no God and The Knights of the Nine were a false creation. S'maash did not believe it a coincidence that upon his arrival the mention of Ayleids was found almost immediately. He waited for the poor, blonde haired, lad to finish his song. He then approached him at the counter.

"They do not believe in Talos," S'maash said, taking a seat next to the man.

"They do not appreciate a good song. Regardless of his existence, it is a good tale," the bard complained.

"I am called S'maash," the Dark Elf said.

"And I am Ruterius, the Rich… though, not so much at this moment," Ruterius replied with a weak smile. "What brings you to The Lonely Suitor? You have the look of a traveler."

"I have plans to study an Ayleid ruin. I'm conducting important research," S'maash answered.

And so he explained his mission to the young Imperial. They shared a few mugs of ale. S'maash learned where the nearest ruin was located, who to ask in town for protection, and who in town to avoid. Ruterius also explained some political issues in Cyrodiil. Ulfrich Stormcloak's rise to High King of Skyrim inspired some Imperials to unite and attempt to overthrow the Aldmeri Dominion. To date, they had been slaughtered. The remnants attempted to petition Skyrim for help. It was unclear as to whether or not Ulfrich would provide support.

"Yes these are difficult times. I wish you luck on your endeavor. If the Mages' Guild were still in existence you might be better off but… well… the Synod has no interest in travelers' research," Ruterius said.

"I left a guild of sorts in Morrowind. We were not the Mages' Guild, per se, but we were a guild of practitioner's of magick. They were not much help in my field. I find that most people, even very capable people, refuse to question their predecessor's knowledge. I am not one such person," S'maash explained.

So the night ended for the two. S'maash rose early the following morning and walked around town, talking to the guard and anyone else who might point him in the direction of Barbas, the Brute, a mighty Nord who had sided with The Empire during the Stormcloaks' uprising. Upon reaching the Nord's house, S'maash knocked on the wooden door. An older woman answered.

"Yes?" she asked.

The woman was tall and slender. She wore her graying hair in a tight ponytail and her garments were nice but aged.

"Apologies, I'm looking for Barbas. I was told he might help me," S'maash said.

"Looking for protection?" She asked with a haggard tone.

"Yes. I need a group to accompany me to Anutwyll. Ruterius said I might conduct my studies inside. If there's any trouble, it will be nice to have some help. I have coin," S'maash told her.

She nodded. Seconds later she returned with the biggest man S'maash had ever seen. He stood close to seven feet tall and wide as a house. Barbas was a bald man with a monstrous gray beard and all too many scars. His grin showed a great many empty spots where teeth may have once resided. Large muscles and a round belly pushed through drab green clothing.

"I am Barbas, the Brute. My wife, Celia, tells me you need assistance," he said with a thick Nord accent.

"Yes. I just need to make sure it's safe to journey through Anutwyll. I've journeyed through Damlzthur, a Dwemer ruin, with a small group from L'Thu Oad's Reyda Tong. They're not unlike your Fighters' Guild. I was hoping for something similar," S'maash explained.

"Of course. I'll need payment upfront so that I may pay my men to join me," Barbas replied.

"That is fine," S'maash answered.

"Myself and four others comes to 250 Septims per day. What do you say?" Barbas asked.

S'maash was taken aback. He had not expected the cost to be so high. He barely had enough for one day.

"What about you and two men? And you can keep most of the treasures. I'm only looking for something to advance my research on magickal theory," S'maash explained.

Barbas stroked his beard.

"You play a good game Elf. Myself and two men for 100 Septims per day and we keep the spoils, if there are any left," Barbas replied.

S'maash handed the man 200 Septims.

"When can we leave?" he asked.

"Eager to start eh? Meet me at The Lonely Suitor in two hours. We will journey," Barbas said and shut the door in S'maash's face.

With nothing left to do, S'maash returned to the inn, packed his gear, and waited for Barbas and crew to arrive. As he waited at the bar, the innkeeper looked him over but said nothing. The stocky Imperial with thick, dark, hair was not one to converse freely with Dunmer. The few hours dragged by before the door to the inn came open. Barbas had arrived with a massive Orcish War Hammer strapped to his back. The crescent head of the green, metal, hammerhead looked painful. Barbas approached S'maash. He was flanked by two others.

"Greetings to you Dark Elf. This is my crew, Freya, who is my cousin, and Elohar, the Bosmer," Barbas said.

Freya, a thick Nord lass with long, braided, red hair nodded. Elohar the Bosmer, a Wood Elf with bronze skin, tipped his fancy hat. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. They appeared more than capable to S'maash. Suddenly he was reminded of his brother and the warriors of the Reyda Tong back home.

"Thank you," S'maash said.

He picked his pack off the ground and promptly left the inn. Barbas took the lead, once they reached the outskirts of town. It was evident the men were all business. As they rounded the walls of Bravil to the northwest, a few birds chirped in the distance. During the trip, S'maash told them of his expedition through Damlzthur. They were surprised to find that he had some experience.

"You think you'll find what you're after in two days?" Elohar asked in disbelief.

"Unlikely. My goal is merely to ascertain that it is safe enough in the ruin to begin conducting my studies. After that… well, time will tell," S'maash replied.

The rolling plains and subtle hills of Bravil's region were a radically different sight from the normality of Morrowind. S'maash could not help but pour his eyes over the verdant foliage and wonderful flowers. Along the way, they spoke of their respective homelands. The migratory trees of Valenwood were a strange concatenation of the Gods as far as anyone who was not Wood Elf was concerned and the cold snowstorms of Skyrim sounded brutal to anyone who was not Nord. They arrived at Anutwyll before they knew it.

**Chapter Five Inside Anutwyll**

Freya stepped before Barbas. She walked lithely up the white steps to the square, white, stone door. Gorgeous arches lied partially covered by earth, moss, and insects. Small pieces of rubble were strewn about in the area above the door, where the rest of them stood waiting for Freya.

"Let's head in, then," she announced.

S'maash cast a Candle Light spell. As the undulating sphere of light cast awkward shadows of the party, S'maash was amazed in the difference of architecture between the Ayleids and the Dwemer. While Dwemer ruins were sharp and angular with their stonework, the Ayleids had a softer touch to the eye. Smooth, white, walls lined the interior hall. It was very short and winding with an odd scintillating green glow hanging in the air. An unnerving hum emanated from an unseen source.

The view before them was of white pillars. The ground below was down quite a few steps. Those steps were exposed on either side. Their feet echoed against the far walls of the massive structure beneath them. Barbas and his crew noticed S'maash pause. He was taking in the sights.

"It's a beautiful piece of architecture," Elohar commented.

"Aye, that it is," S'maash replied as his eyes walked over the view.

Freya started walking down a winding hallway. The others, S'maash included, followed suit. A delicate grating of unknown metal lined the hallway on one side. White, stone walls lined the other. Beyond the grating, S'maash saw a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It's subtle green radiance provided enough light to see without the use of magick.

A short trek through the hall led to an immediate dead end on the group's right hand side. On the floor, near the wall, was a small hexagonal cask. Elohar smiled as he pried it open. A tiny cloud of dust wafted away. Inside was nothing. Whoever had traveled through prior to their arrival had already pilfered its contents.

"What a shame," he commented.

The noise created by Elohar drew the attention of a handful of Giant Rats. The squeaky beasts whined as they thundered over the stone floor, ringed tails flailing behind them. S'maash allowed the warriors to work for their money. Barbas did not even move. Elohar fired three arrows quicker than S'maash had ever been witness to. Three of the Rats perished immediately. The fourth and final reached Freya's feet. She kicked it in the face. As it writhed over, she chopped its head clean off with her war axe. Battle over.

"You elves eat these no?" Freya asked looking at Elohar.

S'maash smiled. Elohar made a face of disgust.

"Wood Elves eat a lot of different meats but it'll be a cold day in Oblivion before this one feasts on vermin," Elohar said almost offended.

They turned to S'maash but he simply shrugged. The left side of the hall rounded a corner to a tombstone shaped gate. Barbas pulled it open then stopped abruptly.

"See this press block? Ayleid ruins are full of these. They're easy enough to spot if you look for the green jewel," Barbas said.

"What do they do?" S'maash inquired.

"It's how you open doors, disable traps, and other such things," Elohar answered.

The four continued beyond the gate. Several chambers appeared to their left as they progressed. There was also a set of white stairs leading down. The crew continued passed the chambers into a large room. Gas chambers lined the floor emitting a strange noxious cloud. They all paused.

"This is one of the old traps?" S'maash asked.

"Aye. Cover your faces with these," Freya ordered as she handed out pieces of cloth.

The gas was a poisonous concoction of unknown agents. With cloth over their faces, the gas did little more than obscure their vision as they progressed. Not wanting to overstay his welcome, Elohar ran through the large chamber. The others followed suit. Beyond the gas, they paused for a moment to catch their breath.

Anutwyll was a glorious sight to behold, even for those who had traipsed through the ruins of the Ancient Elves many times. Its subtle architecture was breath taking. Their excursion beyond the gas chamber took them before a wall with another press block. Barbas nodded to S'maash who pressed it. A trio of stone pillars slowly slid into the ground, revealing an opening through the wall into another room. S'maash was impressed at how smoothly the stones moved. They created very little sound.

Inside the new room was a sort of stone platform. It's utility was unknown, though it appeared to be more for aesthetics than actual use. On its top was a black steel pedestal. Atop it, was a Varla stone. Its gorgeous white crystal was a feast for the eyes. Varla stones were multi faceted works of beauty.

"These fetch a few Septims," Freya said.

"They function to replenish a weapon's magickal property," S'maash added.

"They function to replenish my Coin Purse," Elohar replied in jest.

They had a little laugh as Brabas plucked it from its resting place.

"Good start so far," he said.

After recovering that small fortune, the group rounded a set of stairs back to the gate they entered originally. They pressed forward through the ruin for sometime. It did not appear to be very large and its simple design made it easy to navigate. Before much longer, they came upon a tombstone shaped door, depicting a glowing tree.

"These are strange doors," S'maash commented.

"Let us press onward and discover what lies beyond," Barbas replied.

"Yes. I'm anxious to continue but I am somewhat surprised," S'maash said.

"Why's that?" Elohar asked.

"I suppose I thought there would be more… well more objects. The Dwemer left behind many things. While not all valuable, their ruins hold many vases, pots, books, all types of things. I don't see any of that here. It's as though the whole of the Ayleid culture has vanished," S'maash stated with wonder.

"I don't know about any of that," Freya remarked.

"How could you say that cousin? When we traveled through Raldbthar we saw all those things S'maash mentioned," Barbas said.

"That's not what I meant Barbas. I'm saying I don't know about these Ancient Elves," Freya said raising her voice.

The Nords appeared to be growing irritated with on another. Elohar bumped S'maash with his elbow and motioned with his head.

"Nords are a loud bunch eh?" he said loud enough to draw the Nords' attention.

"Why don't you be quiet before I string you up with your own bow!" Freya said in jest.

Again they laughed. Their happy bickering echoed throughout the whole of Anutwyll. S'maash felt a bit of elation. His journey for knowledge had taken a very entertaining turn. They progressed beyond the stone door into an interior area. It too held a scintillating hum as a green light emanated from sources unseen. Silence prevailed for a small while. Then S'maash spoke.

"I'm surprised there are no monsters lurking about in here," he said.

"Some say the dead roam the halls of Ayleid ruins. Reminds me of the Draugr in our homeland's burial halls," Freya replied.

She had peculiar way of speaking, S'maash noticed. She always rolled her R's quite heavily. Elohar did not comment on the enemy situation but raised an eyebrow in a comical fashion.

"This one does not like the undead," Barbas said and chuckled.

"I can't say I do either," S'maash commented.

"What do you hope to find behind these doors?" Freya asked.

"Something pertaining to old enchantments. I understand the Ayleids viewed the four forces of magick as being Earth Water Wind and Light, Fire being a corruption of Light. If that is in fact truth then we, as modern mages, are not fully utilizing our Enchanting potential.

I believe the Dwemer also held ancient secrets regarding Enchanting. The artifact Volendrung somehow fell into the hands of Malacath. It's very curious. I understand that some artifacts cannot be disenchanted. Normally an item is reduced to ash or debris but somehow these powerful artifacts resist the very force of disenchanting. I hope to find some clues here," S'maash explained.

"You should join the College of Winterhold. The crisp, snowy, air of the north will do you well Dark Elf," Barbas said.

"What is this College?" S'maash asked.

Barbas and Freya told S'maash what little they knew. Being Nord warriors they had respect for magick but no use for it themselves.

"Then once I finish I here I might make that journey," S'maash replied, intrigued.

"You'll freeze 'till your blue… blue-er, in the face," Elohar added in jest.

After the laughter subsided, they found a place to rest for the day. Soon the food dwindled, so they took turns sleeping. The following morning, they eagerly resumed their search. It was not long before more gates were located. Elohar had taken the lead during their second day. A trip down a few flights of stairs brought them to an area full of Welkynd stones. Again the hired muscle pocketed the treasure.

While the group debated how to spilt the money to be made from selling the riches, S'maash took in the sights. Several glowing, rocky, formations lined the ceiling. He took a few steps around the room then approached the warriors.

"What are these gems?" S'maash asked, pointing to green rocks.

"Don't know. All the ruins have them," Freya answered.

S'maash made a mental note. While he stood in awe, Elohar sniffed about the large room. Spotting a long cask, he called them all over.

"Good, finally a chest. Bound to be something in there," Barbas said.

In a corner, the cask sat covered in dust. Barbas knelt down before it in an attempt to open it. It was locked.

"Blasted Elves… sorry," he said with a gap-toothed grin.

"Blah, blah, blah," Elohar responded.

The Bosmer made a sad attempt at pushing Barbas aside to check the chest's lock but Barbas, being as massive as he was, did not budge. He instead, grinned more widely. Freya laughed.

"Just move," Elohar said.

"No need. I'll handle it," Barbas replied.

He stood with such a power that Elohar had to move lithely or fall over. He moved, as all Wood Elves did, with an almost dance-like motion, avoiding a fall onto his seat. Barbas then raised his war hammer over his head. Once it reached its apex, all too close to the ceiling, Barbas pulled it and himself down. The head of the hammer smashed the chest open.

"A little elbow grease is all you need," he said.

"You'd better hope you didn't break anything worthwhile you, you… brute!" Freya chastised him.

Barbas shrugged before stepping away, allowing Freya to check the contents. Inside she found a rotted Coin Purse with 30 old gold coins predating the current Septim, stone jars containing Bone Meal, and some Ancient Elven equipment; one dagger, one bow, and some boots.

"So we'll be taking these as payment," Elohar said immediately.

He snatched the bow from Freya's hand looking it over. The string had rotted away ages ago but the bow itself was in excellent condition. S'maash noticed something about the boots. They possessed an eerie glow, almost undetectable. He motioned to Freya for them.

"Now hold on, you agreed we got the spoils," she said.

"No it's not that. I think they are enchanted. That's what I came here for. Remember?" S'maash replied.

Looking the boots over, S'maash felt the living vibration all enchanted gear possessed. He was sure they held some form of magick. Whatever the enchantment, he did not recognize it.

"Well?" Barbas asked.

S'maash met his eyes.

"I have never come across this one before. I don't know what it is," S'maash said.

"Let him have them. Not like they could fit our feet anyway," Barbas announced.

"They could fit mine," Elohar interjected.

"Never mind that. You've already got something," Barbas retorted.

Elohar shrugged.

"Thank you. Let us continue," S'maash said.

"There must be another press block in here somewhere," Elohar said looking about. "Normally dead ends like these have something hidden away. Ah. Already taken care of. Evidently your mighty blow depressed the button hidden beneath the chest."

The press block had caused another set of stone pillars to slide away from the far wall on the other end of the room. Like all Ayleid designs, Anutwyll possessed hidden hallways for quick access to all areas within. They journeyed through the hall, passing more green gems, back to the ruin's entrance.

"There you have it then. I'll set up here and do some research on those odd rock formations along the stone halls. You're all free to go and everything we recovered is yours, except these boots I guess," S'maash proclaimed.

The group of warriors nodded, took their spoils, and left S'maash to his own devices. He was glad to have found something worth studying but was unclear as to what exactly he had discovered. A few return trips to Bravil took place during which he purchased a few supplies. Unfortunately, the town did not possess an Arcane Enchanter, so S'maash could not learn what the Ancient Elven Boots were capable of.

In an attempt to discern it for himself, he put them on his feet. They were the proper size. As he paced around the town, under the moonlight, he felt no difference. He jumped, ran, even stuck his fingers over an open flame. It burned as he had anticipated. After one more night at The Lonely Suitor Lodge, S'maash returned to Anutwyll where he took some stone samples from the ruin's walls. Satisfied, he intended to take a break before returning to town and plan his next move.

"Well, well, well. What 'ave we got here?" an unfamiliar voice echoed behind him.

S'maash turned to see some bandits in furs and leather. One of them, likely the leader, was an Imperial brandishing a malevolent looking Ebony Dagger. The blades length was as ominous as the embossed black metal from which it was forged. The Imperial addressed the rest of his crew: a Khajiit, Orc, and two Imperial lasses.

"Think we should gut him?" he asked.

They grinned.

"I'm just conducting studies," S'maash said.

"No, no, no. You're just conductin' studies in my 'ome," the Imperial replied.

S'maash furrowed his brow in thought. There had been no bedrolls or tents. It was obvious the bandits intended to make Anutwyll their new base camp. S'maash hoped to avoid confrontation.

"Listen-," S'maash started.

Before he finished, the Imperial vaulted himself forward. He delivered a powerful left fist to S'maash's midsection, causing him to bend over and drop to his knees. With no air in his lungs, the Khajiit and Orc easily took his arms behind his back and held his head in place by his hair. S'maash tried to speak but was unable to.

"This is the part where you fall down and bleed to death," the Imperial said.

Then the man punched S'maash in the face until he blacked out.

**Chapter Six Injured but not Defeated**

S'maash slowly came to. He was lying on the cold floor of Anutwyll. Only able to open one eye, he searched his surroundings. The bandits were gone. So were his dagger and Coin Purse. S'maash sighed then winced in pain as he stood._ At least I left some of my goods back at the inn_, he thought. Injured and discouraged, he made his way back to town.

The painful walk of shame provided S'maash ample time to mull over his next course of action. A warm sun sat atop the sky. S'maash looked into the blue expanse. Some clouds were rolling in. He thought about the College of Winterhold. _I hope it's not like the Mages' Coalition back home. I'd hate to travel all the way out there just to face the same problems_, he thought to himself. _Suppose I won't know until I go…_

S'maash strolled through Bravil, avoiding the gaze of the townsfolk. After pushing aside the doors to the inn, he plopped down at the bar. The innkeeper's daughter stood behind the counter. She, like her father, had dark eyes and thick hair. Her apron was smeared with early morning's breakfast.

"Looks painful," she remarked.

S'maash looked at her with his one good eye. She was a cute young Imperial woman.

"How about one on the house… if you tell me your story," she said.

S'maash obliged her. He started with work in L'Thu Oad then told her about the trip through Damlzthur. She listened intently as S'maash drank and spoke. By the end of the tale, he arrived at the point where the bandits gave him a sound thrashing.

"So now you're going to move to Skyrim?" she asked.

"I don't know. I wish my brother was by my side," S'maash replied.

The young lady shrugged before leaving him to tend to the next customer. S'maash left the bar for his room. After a quick nap, he checked the remainder of his gear. He figured if he sold off all things unnecessary, he could afford a ride to Cheydinhal. From there, he reasoned, someone could take him into Skyrim. Then it was only a matter of finding the College of Winterhold.

A few days went by. During the passing of time, S'maash wrote a letter to his brother, explaining the circumstances. After the letter was given to a courier, S'maash went to the local supply store. He sold off his camping gear, some potions, and other miscellaneous items. By the end of the transaction, he had only his traveling pack, the magick boots he had found, food, water, a few of the stones he took from Anutwyll, the clothes on his back, and 47 Septims.

It was an early Middas when he reached the stables outside Bravil. There, he spoke to a stableman, an Orc named Grogot no Grob. The Orc, though brutish and pig-like in appearance, wore fine clothes and spoke quite eloquently.

"Yes Dark Elf. We do have a carriage we can arrange for you to take. It will cost you a paltry 20 Septims for a journey to Cheydinhal. I'm from there you know," Grogot said.

"Do you know the best way into Skyrim from Cheydinhal?" S'maash asked.

Grogot stroked his thin beard.

"I do not. I have heard of Nord clans living in the Jeralls though. Perhaps you may find someone in Cheydinhal who can tell you more. I haven't actually been to Cheydinhal for many years. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to gather my son, horses, and carriage for your departure," Grogot said, holding out a green, open palm.

S'maash nodded as he placed the twenty Septims in Grogot's hand. Shortly thereafter, S'maash was on his way to Cheydinhal. The cart ride lasted two days. Rorgot, the wagon driver, made four stops along the way allowing the horses to rest. Throughout the trip, the chatty Orc asked many questions for which S'maash had only guesses. While Rorgot was not interested in magickal theory, he did listen intently to the Dark Elf's musings.

"Do you miss Morrowind?" Rorgot asked, one night as they rested by a fire.

"I do not miss the land so much as the people I knew. This traveling is lonely and difficult," S'maash replied.

They stared into the fire for many minutes before fatigue set in. The area chosen for camp was somewhat rocky but level. A few native insects buzzed around but did not disturb the campers as they slept. After waking, they took back to the paved roads. If nothing else, Cyrodiil's roads were easy to traverse. The Imperials had built quite the road system between their towns.

So they arrived in Cheydinhal, a well-to-do town with fine Dark Elf architecture, on Freddas. From there S'maash immediately located the tavern. Inside he listened to conversations. Once he found the right person, he asked around for a guide through the Jeralls. He was directed to clan Snow-Shield. They were known to make most of their money doing just what S'maash needed.

After meeting with them in a cabin just north of town they agreed to help him. He learned they also helped couriers and shippers move to and from Skyrim. Many deliveries had to go through the dangerous mountain passes. The matriarch of clan Snow-Shield was a hearty old woman by then name of Sigryud. She led her two sons, Sigurd and Thurro, as well as S'maash, through the mountains. Their specific route took them over some iced over, rocky, hills.

"Soon we will come across the cavernous Pale Pass. It has a lively history dealing with the Akaviri," Thurro said.

Like Barbas, he too spoke with a thick Nord accent. Both the sons were rough and tumble types wearing heavy armor. Their mother preferred the use of Destruction spells.

"I thought Nords were not overly fond of magick," S'maash commented while carefully traversing the rocky terrain.

"What nonsense. If that were true why would we have the College of Winterhold?" she asked.

S'maash shrugged. He thought perhaps it was a stupid comment to have made.

"I didn't mean disrespect. You're right of course. Do Nords prefer Destruction over the other schools?" S'maash asked.

"I do but we hail from a family of warriors," Sigryud replied.

"We were warriors until Ulfrich and his uprising," Sigurd stated.

S'maash had some difficulty keeping up with the quick pace of the Nords. The sun reflected quite fiercely off the snow at his feet and the air was thin and bitter cold. A few sparsely growing trees peppered the landscape.

"You did not agree with his decision to rebel?" S'maash asked.

"We agreed with his decision. We did not care for his purpose. He said it was about a free Skyrim but we all had our doubts," Thurro interjected.

"So, you moved into the Jeralls during his rebellion?" S'maash inquired.

"Aye and never looked back. It is not an easy life but it pays well and keeps us safe. Other than a few Trolls or Cave Bears were do not face much adversity," Sigryud answered.

The journey through Pale Pass into the Nord town of Riften was not an easy one but upon its completion, S'maash was glad to have time to rest. The city walls were in sight.

"There it is, Riften. Once a mighty city now little more than a place for trouble. Keep an eye out for thieves," Sigurd stated.

Upon his arrival in Riften, clan Snow-Shield left him to his adventure. The town was surprisingly lively. After a stroll into the market area above the Ratway, an underground home to beggars, he asked around for work. S'maash needed coin to continue his journey to Winterhold and he had none left. Few were willing to provide but an old man at a forge motioned to S'maash. The smith was an old man by the name of Balimund.

"I can always use a little help around the forge," Balimund said.

S'maash accepted the offer. He liked Riften. The town was quite colorful with its stone mansions and wooden homes. A waterway led out to the docks. While S'maash did not care too much for sailing, he did enjoy traipsing around town. After a few days of menial tasks, Balimund gave away his secret.

"See this forge is unique. Fire Salts fuel its flames, allowing for easier manipulation of steel," Balimund explained, one chilly afternoon.

As S'maash worked the bellows, he listened to Balimund's explanation of Alchemy's uses in Smithing.

"I had never taken Alchemy as a relevant study," S'maash confessed.

"You have to. I'd expect as an Enchanter, you'd want to further your studies by utilizing Alchemy," Balimund said.

The old man's bulky body, thick gray hair, and gruff exterior effectively masked his intelligence. S'maash listened to him and followed with questions.

"How would Alchemy boost my Enchanting?" S'maash asked.

"I heard tales from Ingun Blackbriar, she used to study under Elgrim. She said some reagents specific to Skyrim can be mixed into a potion. When imbibed, the potion draws on the innate talent of the Enchanter. I don't know the specifics. You'd have to ask the College of Mages," Balimund said.

"Well that's what brings me to Skyrim. What can you tell me about the College?" S'maash asked.

"Not much I'm afraid but you can head there yourself. There's a carriage that comes by here. You could purchase a ride to Winterhold," Balimund replied.

S'maash continued his work with Balimund for a week before gaining enough coin to purchase that ride. After the week's end it was another few days before the wagon came to Riften. S'maash eventually found himself outside Haelga's Bunkhouse. Upon entering for the night, he realized something was off. The older, attractive, woman at the counter greeted him profusely.

"Welcome, welcome to Haelga's Bunkhouse. I'm Haelga. Will you be staying all night my young traveler?" she asked in her most sultry voice.

S'maash raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Why? Doesn't everyone stay the whole night?" he asked.

"No. Some only stay an hour or so. Very disappointing. But I don't judge. If I did… I'd judge you could stay all night," she replied.

"How much do you charge?" S'maash asked.

"Is it me you want to pay? Maybe Irulia is a better fit for you?" she asked with a hand on her curvy hips.

She then motioned with her head to a voluptuous lady Dark Elf. S'maash saw her across the room. She wore lighter clothing reveling shapely legs, and other such feminine parts. S'maash smiled to himself.

"Then I will see how much she charges," he replied.

S'maash had buried himself in his work for far too long. One night of passion was worth the 10 Septims. After bedding down in the Bunkhouse, S'maash woke well rested, ready to round out the last day before setting off to join the College of Winterhold. That Loredas lingered on.

While Skyrim was known for its cold days, Riften had been a little warmer than other establishments due to its low altitude and proximity to both Cyrodiil and Morrowind. When the Sundas morning sun rose, S'maash was all set to leave. He went to the Riften stables where he purchased a ride to Winterhold. The ride took almost two days, during which, S'maash learned how cold Skyrim could truly be. A snowstorm brewed as they approached Windhelm, the home of Ulfrich Stormcloak. S'maash kept his eyes on the surrounding view.

The ice capped mountains and blustery snowstorms were a sight to behold. The closer they came to Winterhold the more difficult it was to see. Heavy winds and thick snow obscured the vision. Skyrim's hardy horses had little difficulty pushing through. The thick, stocky, animals seemed bred for the long haul. Late Mundas evening, S'maash arrived at his final destination, Winterhold. He thanked the cart master before heading into town proper.

The town was not what he had expected. It was little more than a provisions store, the Jarl's Longhouse, and an inn. At the north end of town was the enormous bridge leading to an even greater tower. S'maash, knowing full well the bridge led to the College, walked passed the wooden homes, right to the mighty arch and the first stones buried into the snow packed ground. An Altmer woman in bluish robes stood before him.

"You seek entrance to the College of Winterhold?" she asked looking down upon him.

"Yes. I am S'maash. I wish to join and further my works on the art of Enchanting," he replied.

"Hmmm. How droll. Most do not come for such… dull work," she said. "I am Faralda. I challenge those who seek entry to prove themselves worthy of joining. What can you do?"

Slightly irritated by Altmer demeanor, S'maash explained his research.

"That means nothing to me. I need to see something. Can you even cast a spell?" she asked in her most condescending tone.

"I could pop you in the chest with an Ice Spike if you like," he retorted.

"No need to be rude, Dunmer. Just cast it over the bridge," she replied.

So he did, the crystalline shard of frozen magicka soared away. She then bid him follow her as she ignited the magickal wells along the way. The precarious bridge held great portions with no railing. S'maash carefully looked over the side as a flurry of snow blew over him. Upon reaching a large statue of a mage, Faralda instructed S'maash as to which buildings were which.

"The Archmage, Tolfdir, will meet you in the Hall of the Elements when you are ready. It is the centermost entry. For now, I will show you to your room in the Hall of Attainment,"Faralda said.

They both entered a large round tower. S'maash looked over his room. The tower was a perfect circle of gray stone. His room, a very modest area, contained a bed, a trunk for his belongings, and scattered reagents and Soul Gems. He quickly unloaded what little he possessed before making his way to the Hall of the Elements.

The second tower was much like the first. The only real difference was the large practicing area in place of rooms with beds. On either side of the tower were doors leading to rooms unknown. An old Nord in blue robes stood before young mages, explaining the difference between Alteration and Illusion. His calm demeanor was a welcome respite from the gruff Nords'.

"So you see, Alteration is a practical change in the flow of magick, whereas Illusion, is the appearance of change granted by one's control of the flow of magick," Tolfdir said.

"Reminds me of the Response to Bero's Speech," a Nord boy said.

He had a peculiar way of speaking. While his accent was obviously Nord, there was something strange about the way he accentuated his S's.

"Aye good call Wulfbore," another Nord boy said.

"Thank you brother," the first boy replied.

"What's this, a prospective student? A traveler with questions perhaps?" Tolfdir asked as he approached S'maash.

The class, consisting of the Nord brothers, Wulfbore and Wulfgar, an Argonian with large horns called Zolara, a Breton girl with short, brown, hair called Genevieve, and a Redguard with crazy hair called Sulim, all turned to look at S'maash. They all wore traditional robes, the design of which supported both, one's ability to regenerate magicka as well as keep the wearer warm in the cold of Skyrim's climate.

"Yes… prospective student. I have studied quite a bit in the field of Enchanting. I am S'maash," he said.

"Excellent. Settle into the class and follow along," Tolfdir instructed.

The following few days passed by with little incident. S'maash met the instructors of each school. He found it odd however that he had come all that way to find there was no instructor for the school of Enchanting. Of the instructors a few stood out for one reason or another. The Khajiit Conjuration master, J'zargo only eyed S'maash. The Illusion master was friendly enough but S'maash had little interest in Illusion.

Brelyna, a middle aged Dunmer was instructor of the school of Alteration. Collete Marcene, a strange and annoying Breton, taught Restoration but her constant self-judgment was a nightmare for S'maash. Lastly, Faralda taught Destruction, though it was a rare occurrence.

Forced to confinement after hours in the Hall of Attainment, S'maash made some friends with the students. One night, while drinking some mead with the Nord brothers, S'maash posed a question to them.

"Where is the instructor for the School of Enchanting?" he asked.

"I don't know. Far as I can tell they don't focus on Enchanting or Alchemy here," Wulfgar said.

Wulfgar was taller and broader than his older brother, Wulfbore. Wulfgar also kept his thick, red, hair long and braided while Wulfbore kept his neatly trimmed.

"I heard a story of someone who used to teach here. He sought help from the Dragonborn, shortly after the defeat of Alduin. Word is, he was looking into the disappearance of the Dwarves but it might just be a tale," Wulfbore explained.

"That is most intriguing. I have done some studies on the Dwemer. My brother and I explored Damlzthur in Morrowind," S'maash said.

They passed the night exchanging stories of adventure. Unfortunately, no one had any answers regarding the school of Enchanting.

**Chapter Seven Accessing the Arcane**

The following morning, after further lessons in Alteration provided by Brelyna, the Dark Elf and former protégé of Tolfdir, S'maash approached her and explained what exactly he was looking for. During their conversation, she decided to allow him access to her Arcane Enchanter and provided him with Soul Gems. He took to it immediately with the Ancient Elven Boots he had recovered inside Anutwyll.

She observed him as he efficiently broke down the enchantment. First he placed the golden boots on the table. Focusing his intent on the force of magick as it broke free from the boots, he learned they had been designed to obscure sound. They had possessed the ability to muffle footsteps, something he had missed while he wore them. Once the enchantment was freed from the boots, their physical structure became unstable. They fell to pieces. He then turned to Brelyna.

"Why do some artifacts resist disenchantment?" he asked her.

"If the force of the enchantment exceeds that of the Arcane Enchanter it is incapable of releasing the enchantment from the item. Furthermore, if the item is held together by a powerful enchantment, the physical nature of the piece cannot be destroyed so the enchantment cannot be freed." She explained

"A form of Alteration?" he asked.

"Yes actually. Many fail to realize that Enchanting is directly correlated to the school of Alteration," she answered.

"I heard about a former Enchanter here. Where did he go?" S'maash asked.

"Sergius Turrianus?" She asked.

S'maash shrugged.

"He was our only instructor for the school of Enchanting," she said.

"The Nords, Wulfgar and Wulfbore said he worked with the Dragonborn." S'maash added.

"You must mean Arniel Gane… no one knows for certain. After a few weeks of his disappearance we went through his room. There were some journals he left behind. It seems he and the Dragonborn had been working on some way to find the Dwemer. Arniel was convinced that by using a Warped Soul Gem he could replicate the power of Lorkhan's Heart. He then obtained Keening, a Dwemer artifact. I don't know what happened after that. He simply vanished.

The Dragonborn has not been seen in Skyrim for a few years now, so there's no way to know just what happened." She explained.

S'maash was excited. He knew the story of how General Nerevar battled Dumac and the Chimer became Dunmer. It involved the Heart of Lorkhan and the disappearance of the Dwemer. S'maash felt the potential for learning.

"Is anyone living in Arniel's room?" he asked.

"No. No one wants to set foot in there. It's been twenty years and still people are scared. Nonsense if you ask me but I have no need to be in there," she answered.

"Do you think I could take his room?" S'maash asked.

"I'll check with Tolfdir. If he approves, it's all yours," she said.

During the next few days S'maash wrote his brother another letter explaining he had finally found his place in life. After that, he poured over the many dusty tomes kept by Urag, the Orc in the Arcaeneum. The Orc's abrasive personality softened once he realized just how interested in reading S'maash was. Before he knew it, S'maash was given Arniel Gane's old room. With free reign over an Arcane Enchanter, endless Soul Gems, and complete silence, S'maash engrossed himself in work, writing down every question he came upon.

After a week's time he had amassed one full journal with the following questions. _What is the origin of the Arcane Enchanter? Are they ingrained with the force of Alteration? Can they be amplified? How do Soul Gems function? Why do they shatter after use? What is it about the Star of Azura that allows it to remain in existence and subsequently refilled?_ For the most part his questions remained unanswered.

While conducting studies, he also attempted to discern the nature of the gems he removed from the Ayleid ruin. Brelyna, having grown close to S'maash, decided to take some time and assist in that endeavor. After crushing one such gem to a fine powder and refining into a liquid at her Alchemy Table, then running everything through the glass and steel apparatus, she found it to be a solidified version of the Ayleid fluid found in glowing pools. Those pools could be collected and crystallized into a Welkynd Stone.

While the Ayleids had a process for speeding along the results, the liquid itself, or the liquid while in mist form, had the potential to bind itself and coalesce into a solid state. Only rarely and under specific conditions did the stone truly become a Welkynd Stone. So the Ayleids refined the process through artificial means.

"So it's just a Welkynd Stone in its infancy?" S'maash asked her, that night.

They were sitting on the edge of the well before the statue of the once great Shalidor outside the College. It appeared as though its stone robes fluttered in the wind. The moon sat perfectly atop the center of the starry sky. Brelyna, in her fur lined, blue, robes peered into the heavens.

"Yes. Has there been any progress on your research?" she asked.

"Not much truthfully, but then I did not expect to make leaps and bounds after a mere fortnight." S'maash replied.

"What will you do next?" Brelyna asked.

S'maash looked up as he brought his thoughts together.

"I want to understand why an Alteration spell, such as Stone Flesh, doesn't permanently alter the living, while a similar enchantment, such as Fortify Heavy Armor, permanently alters the equipment," he stated.

"Well, I can assure you, at least part of that reason has to do with the Magicka reserves in a person. Equipment, such as armor, doesn't have a reserve of Magicka," She answered.

"But weapons with charges behave as though they do and can be recharged with the same force, souls, as used to enchant… every item enchanted is infused with the living essence…" S'maash's voice trailed away.

Brelyna was impressed. She had never met one so inquisitive.

"So you think the souls have more to do with the enchantment than the effect or spell?" Brelyna asked.

"If the souls, once filtered into the Soul Gem, adopt the same energy flux as Magicka… is that what it is? It can't be just Magicka, by that logic a Welkynd Stone could be used to cast an enchantment. What am I missing here?" he asked.

"Souls and Magicka are different forces, though both magickal, if Sergius were still here, he might explain it a little better," Brelyna said.

"Who taught him?" S'maash asked.

"I assume someone in Cyrodiil," Brelyna replied.

S'maash rubbed the hairless sides of his head. The bitter night's cold nipped at his ears. After one more glance at Brelyna, he stood and made for the door into the Hall of Countenance. For a second, she felt rebuffed but followed suit. Upon entering, Brelyna took to her room beside the stairs. S'maash collapsed onto his bed, one floor above. He wanted to think but his mind was weary. His body was not. He stared at the ceiling for a moment then closed his eyes.

_Not good enough,_ he thought. He quickly rolled out of bed. Shock overtook him for a brief second. He thought he had seen a large purple mass. He stood there, looking over by the Arcane Enchanter but there was nothing. _A mental concoction from stress?_ There was no way to know. He took a breath before brushing it off and making his way back to the Arcaeneum.

He was alone in the massive study that night. As he perused more volumes amidst the endless wooden shelves, one caught his eye he had overlooked a few times before.

"Twin Secrets," he said.

He decided to take it out for a read. Hoping that a topic not regarding Enchanting might give him a new perspective he was surprised to find just the opposite. Twin Secrets explained the story of a man who met a Dragon. The Dragon taught him how to use two enchantments at once. S'maash did not know it was possible to do such a thing, but it did explain Daedric Artifacts. The reasoning behind the limitation was physical anatomy.

_Is it possible then, that because of my physical structure I cannot create specific enchantments? Furthermore, which ones can I utilize? Obviously the Dwemer knew something… they only have two eyes, two hands, and so forth._ After finishing the book S'maash wondered if approaching a Dragon was a reasonable step to take. There were some left behind, high on mountaintops, or deep underground. He laughed at the silly thought.

Two weeks passed, during which, S'maash spent several hours meditating and practicing the art of Dual Enchanting. With some level of mastery, S'maash and Brelyna crafted items to improve her Alchemy skills. She in turn provided him with potions to Fortify Enchanting. With his temporarily improved abilities, he crafted a second set of more powerful equipment for her. The cycle continued a few times but they reached a limit.

He tested this limit by creating a simple ring of Fortify Carry Weight. His best enchantment could not seem to push beyond an additional 47 stones. Brelyna and some of other students watched him amble about with an overstuffed pack on his back in the courtyard, one sunny day.

"Perhaps you should just eat more no?" Wulfgar asked jokingly.

The Redguard, Sulim, did not think it was so funny, but Redguards were not known for their sense of humor.

"This is important research. My own fondness for Alchemy has me intrigued," Zolara commented.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen," Tolfdir interrupted after coming upon the courtyard. "We're off on an expedition. There is a tome in Snow Veil Sanctum. Along the way I will explain the effects of over charging Conjuration spells. Who's coming?"

Zolara stayed behind to watch S'maash as well as speak to Brelyna about some Alchemy studies he had been working on. The rest made their trip with Tolfdir. S'maash, exhausted, dropped the pack on the ground.

"Is it me? Is it because I'm limited physically that I only cast limited enchantments?" he asked out loud.

The two observers had no answer. In frustration, S'maash kicked the pack before making his way back to his room. There, he sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the Arcane Enchanter. _I wonder… I have never read why it is that Enchanting doesn't work on creatures._ His thoughts then became voiced questions.

"I can enchant a ring, the ring itself does not carry the weight. It is the wearer who does. So… the ring transfers the enchantment upon the physical structure of the being. Can I skip over the ring as a medium? And what about dead creatures? Are they not as inanimate as a ring? Can they be enchanted? I have to find out…" he said.

Zolara and Brelyna were still outside when S'maash exited the tower. The two sat together as snow fell upon them. S'maash was uninterested in what they were discussing but Brelyna saw the look in S'maash's eye.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get some chickens," he yelled without turning his head back to her.

S'maash ran across the bridge into Winterhold. Upon stepping off the bridge one of the guards spotted him. He wore a full helmet covering his face and some quilted armor to protect him from the cold.

"Don't suppose you could enchant my sword? Dull old blade can barely cut butter," he said.

S'maash looked him over. His armor seemed both comfortable and warm.

"I need a chicken," S'maash said.

"Come again?" the guard asked.

"Can I take a chicken with me back to the College?" he asked.

"I suppose. There's one right over there," the guard, said pointing to a chicken.

S'maash snatched it from its snowy perch and ran it back to his to room at the College. Hs quick pace kept him from getting too cold. In the room, he held the chicken on the Arcane Enchanter. Once the bird settled down, S'maash took a Soul Gem and attempted to enchant the chicken with a Fortify Carry Weight spell. S'maash learned it was not as simple a matter as he hoped.

Upon initiating the ritual, a flash of light assaulted S'maash. A violent force immediately followed the blinding light. Before he knew it, he was knocked onto his rear. He let out a wild scream. Brelyna and Zolara heard the scream from outside. They ran to S'maash, who was still on his rear and covered in blood, feathers, and other bits of chicken. He looked up at them.

"S'maash?" Brelyna asked breathless.

S'maash slowly stood. Awkwardly, he moved his hands wanting to clean himself.

"Cloth?" S'maash asked.

Zolara nodded before leaving.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Brelyna asked.

"It's not my blood. I… I exploded a chicken." S'maash said, looking around his room.

By the time Zolara returned with the cloth, S'maash was busy trying to gather everything that had been covered in blood, feathers, and entrails, which was everything. After cleaning the room, he tried to explain his attempt at Enchanting.

"That's preposterous," Brelyna said, astonished.

"Is it? I'm trying to push the boundaries. I have not read in any tome why enchanting doesn't work on creatures. I still don't know why. Perhaps I should have started with a plant," S'maash said.

"I think maybe you should sleep on it…" Zolara suggested.

So that night he tried again with a plant. A similar situation unfolded. While S'maash utilized a small plant, the still large explosion knocked him over again, only then, he was not covered in anything more than bark and leaves. He shook his head in exasperation before logging the results in his journal._ Perhaps I should cast the weakest form of the enchantment,_ he thought. That too yielded similar results. He scratched his head and rubbed his rear, which was growing sore from all the repeated falls.

S'maash grew exhausted. He sat on his bed with his head in his hands. For a minute, he pondered over what an appropriate next step might be. Suddenly, he felt an ominous presence. Looking up revealed nothing but S'maash kept looking about. Confused, he left the room and peaked around. No one was in sight. At his rope's end, he decided to rest for the remainder of the night.

The following morning, S'maash attempted something a little different. He tried to enchant one of the Snow Berries that grew at the College's courtyard. It seemed as though nothing happened then the Petty Soul Gem cracked. It fell to pieces. S'maash gasped. _Did, did it work?_ There was only one way to tell, he had to disenchant the Snow Berry. When he tried, it turned to ash. The berry had been enchanted. S'maash logged his discovery.

From berries, he decided to move up. He ran back into Winterhold to purchase some Chicken Eggs, they too were reagents after all. S'maash marked each egg with a different rune to keep from confusing them. Next he cast the most powerful Fortify Carry Weight spell he could muster. He braced himself with the first egg, the enchantment appeared to work. They all appeared to work as all the Soul Gems cracked. It was only a matter of time before the eggs hatched, if the enchantment didn't kill the chick inside and if there was, in fact, a chick inside.

During the time required for results to take place, S'maash studied more works in the Arcaeneum. The massive library had more tomes than he had ever seen. One day he struck up a peculiar conversation with Urag.

"Whatever is involved in the art of Enchanting has already been established. You'd spend your time more wisely if you just listened to the instructors," Urag stated, coarsely.

"I disagree. Have you read Twin Secrets?" S'maash asked.

"Sure, the story of the man who learned Dual Enchanting from the Dragon. It's just a story," Urag said.

"It isn't. I can do it," S'maash responded.

Urag was pensive. For a moment, he stirred in his seat. After standing, he adjusted his yellow robes. He returned his gaze to S'maash.

"How do you think the Daedric Princes make such powerful artifacts? They're simply better mages with a larger supply of Magicka or a better stock of souls. Souls… didn't the Dragonborn stay here for a while? I heard he worked on a project with Arniel Gane," S'maash said.

"Aye. What of it? They both disappeared," Urag replied.

"But he's Dragonborn, he steals Dragons' souls… imagine how powerful a Dragon soul is," S'maash commented.

"Dragon's resist Soul Trap and if they didn't, there is no gem strong enough to hold their souls," Urag explained.

"Not even the Star of Azura?" S'maash asked.

"You mean the Black Star. The Dragonborn helped a mage turn it into the Black Star. It is no longer connected to Azura," Urag said.

S'maash was intrigued. He sat across the counter from the Orc, rapping his fingers on the wooden counter.

"Then there's an imbalance in power right?" S'maash asked.

"What do you mean?" Urag asked.

"The artifacts they create… each Daedric Prince I mean, how can I explain this? They themselves exist in several planes, like Elder Scrolls, I read this in some of your texts. The artifacts they create differ in each plane but because they, the princes, exist, their artifacts must exist as well," S'maash tried to explain.

"By Ysmir, you might be right. But so what? What does that mean?" Urag asked.

"Azura might craft a new Star, one connected to her in this plane. If she chose, she might craft one powerful enough to contain Dragon souls," S'maash said.

"But we're back to Dragon's resisting Soul Trap," the Orc replied.

S'maash clicked his tongue. A moment of silence passed as the two looked around at the many tomes in the Arcaeneum. S'maash welcomed the silence of the library. He felt it was more conducive to exploring thought. It was evident Urag felt similarly. Finally, they resumed their discussion.

"Well it's a thought. I know the Dwemer were capable of creating great weapons, like Volendrung. I'd love to hear the story of how that artifact fell into Malacath's hands. Then you have the fact that they worked with the Heart of Lorkhan. Then the Ayleids and their mastery over Light magick, I can feel it. There's more we can achieve here," S'maash complained.

"Well it's all too much for me, not to mention if Arniel was working on something similar it did not end well for him," Urag replied.

With that, they ended their discussion. S'maash decided to read up on Azura. He discovered what was needed to summon her. During his search to gather what he needed, one of the chicks hatched. The others did not. So he put his endeavor with Azura on hold to run tests with his new chick. He marked the new chicken with a green band around its right leg.

The initial test to be documented involved the chicken's ability to pull a bag of small stones. He compared the results to similar chicks he purchased in town. The store bought chicks were much weaker. Proud of his great finding, he decided to retry a former experiment.

S'maash attempted once more a weak Enchantment on a store bought baby chick. His reasoning was that as the chick was still in its infancy, it had not yet solidified its magickal nature. He was mistaken. The little bird burst into a bloody mess, knocking him on his rear again. In a fit of rage, S'maash knocked some furniture around the room and drew the attention of Tolfdir, who had recently returned from another trip with the students.

Upon finding S'maash in a rage, and covered in blood, Tolfdir assumed the worst.

"What's this? Are you practicing Necromancy?" Tolfdir asked in an accusatory tone.

"What? No!" S'maash started.

"Quiet. I will not tolerate this. Your entire room is covered in blood. I kept quiet before to see what might transpire. This is the third time you've desecrated a living creature," Tolfdir said quite calmly.

"Please, I can explain," S'maash begged.

"No. You are here by expelled from The Winterhold College of Mages. Take your belongings and leave at once," Tolfdir ordered.

S'maash sighed as he looked around the room. In resignation, he shook his shoulders.

"I need to find something quickly then I will go," he said.

It took S'maash a few seconds to sift through the junk he had strewn about. Tossing about pieces of wooden furniture and ragged bed sheets, he located his journal and handed it to Tolfdir.

"Everything is in there. I hope you'll see you've made a mistake," S'maash said.

He then took the remainder of his belongings from his trunk. Still bloodied, he took one last look at the room. S'maash turned and left. In disbelief, he trudged from the tower to the courtyard, from the courtyard to the bridge, from there, into Winterhold. It was late, a snowstorm brewed in the south horizon, the lights in the night sky danced in a dizzying array. Before exiting the town, S'maash stopped a guard.

"What is it? Dragons?" the guard asked.

"Where do dishonored mages go when they leave Winterhold?" he asked.

"Kicked out of the College eh? What, you practice Necromancy?" the guard inquired.

"They think so but no, I don't. I'm not overly familiar with Skyrim. I've only been here and in Riften," S'maash replied.

The guard looked carefully at S'maash, his robes still stained with blood. Then he locked eyes with the Elf.

"I think it best you find your own way Dunmer," the guard replied, rudely.

S'maash shook his head in desperation. He took a deep breath then started a new journey for a place to work while he hoped Tolfdir would read his journal and realize the misunderstanding. Work was not easy to come by, not work allowing S'maash the time he needed to conduct more studies. So he followed the road south into Windhelm, south into the blizzard.

**Chapter Eight More than a Court Wizard**

After a few hours of walking, the weather turned to a brutal cold. With no other alternative, S'maash took shelter in Stillborn Cave. Thoughts of what might come next plagued him. He had no desire to plunge into the cave's depths, so he simply waited for the storm to pass. Fearing some kind of animal attack kept him awake the entire time. Hours passed and S'maash started a new journal. In it, he started his story from the beginning, which came from watching Rosoleola disenchant a necklace, years ago.

As he continued scribing, he touched on his trip into Damlzthur, Anutwyll, and finally the misunderstanding at the College of Winterhold. Once the storm passed, S'maash, almost completely exhausted, continued his journey into Windhelm. Early morning frost covered the ground.

Signs posted beside the paved road indicated the town was relatively close. With the storm gone, and daylight beginning to cascade over mountainsides, S'maash saw the ancient stone walls of Windhelm from a distance. He arrived in the middle of the day. It snowed again, albeit lightly.

Upon entering the magnificent city, he saw a few Dunmer such as himself. He had not been aware that there was such a large community of Dark Elves in Skyrim. He approached an old Dark Elf with long gray hair.

"Excuse me. I'm passing through looking for work and a place to continue my studies on the arcane arts. Is it possible you could guide me in the right direction?" S'maash asked.

"Of course. I'm Faryl. I work on Hollyfrost farm, have for a long time. We could use a hand, I'm not the young mer I used to be," Faryl stated.

So they struck up a conversation. For over a week, S'maash helped with the crops outside the walls of Windhelm, only entering to for drinks at the New Gnisis corner club. Quaint hospitality reminded him of home. The run-down interior reminded him of his own house. It was little more than a wooden room, three stories tall.

His new job didn't pay much but S'maash was able to formulate new ideas, new projects to work on. He also learned that Whiterun was the center trade hub for all of Skyrim. After earning enough pay for a carriage ride, S'maash moved to Whiterun.

During the short ride, S'maash was educated on Ulfrich Stormcloak's rise to the seat of High King. Stories of bravery and bloodshed painted Ulfrich as a hero, a charismatic man of power and action. The cart master insinuated the Dragonborn also shared a hand in Ulfrich's victory against General Tullius. The Nord's story ended with a threat from the Aldmeri Dominion.

"Your kind has plans to rule Tamriel," the Nord said, accusingly.

"My kind?" S'maash asked, slightly insulted.

"Elves," the Nord replied.

"High Elves, and only a small sect. My quest for knowledge has nothing to do with usurping power," S'maash stated, bluntly.

"Perhaps. We've arrived Dark Elf," the Nord said.

S'maash hopped off the back of the cart then looked at the walls surrounding Whiterun. Nord architecture was designed for strength more than beauty. Apart from Winterhold, walls surrounded the other cities he had visited.

Beyond the doors of Whiterun, S'maash passed by a Smithy. A few people and some guards walked around, all too busy to pay heed to a newcomer. Walking the streets for a few moments, S'maash stumbled onto the door of the Bannered Mare. The homes and buildings of Whiterun were built from fine regional wood. The subtle beauty of unrefined logs provided an air of prominence. Inside the tavern, S'maash saw the city's dwellers feasting and drinking. It did not appear as though any regime change had come about in the past few decades.

"Take a seat or stoke the fire if you're cold," A young woman said from behind the counter.

S'maash sat across from her. Behind him, a fire pit with large logs kept the tavern comfortably warm. The woman introduced herself as Hulda. While aged, she was still very much beautiful. Her sharp features, dark eyes, and chestnut hair accentuated her former youth.

"Greetings. I'm from… out of town but looking for employment. I was told Whiterun was the center of trade for all of Skyrim," S'maash commented.

"Aye. By your looks I'd wager you're a mage for hire," the woman said.

S'maash was a little uneasy. He was not sure why she would take him for a mercenary.

"Not quite, no. I have traveled a bit. Any work in the field of magick would be a welcome change from harvesting crops though," S'maash replied.

"The court wizard is always running errands, rather he is always to busy to run his own errands. You might want to check with him," she advised.

S'maash smiled. She too rolled her R's as many of the Nords did. He was starting to take a liking to the people of Skyrim, even with his current trepidations. Learning of a powerful wizard, the Jarl's court wizard, S'maash decided to ask around for some information on him before approaching.

"Farengar Secret-Fire is his name. No one has seen much of him recently," Hulda stated.

The young adults of Whiterun overheard the conversation. They told stories of the Dragonborn and how he trapped the mighty Dragon Odahviing in Dragonsreach. Apparently Secret-Fire had managed to illicit quite the story of how he was right beside the Dragonborn and even managed to collect some samples of blood and scale. Intrigued by the stories, S'maash ventured to Dragonsreach to meet with Secret-Fire.

Along the way, S'maash jogged passed a grand tree with pretty lilac flowers. Next came the great many steps leading up to a massive wooden palace. Great arches of rich browns adorned the entry way. Dragonsreach's interior was more of the same Nordic design as the rest of Whiterun. The peaceful interior housed large tables, heavy with food and mead and great wood pillars with supporting arches.

S'maash asked the guard for the court wizard and was directed to a small room on the right hand side of the graceful wood and stone palace. Upon entering, S'maash was surprised to meet and old mage in black robes with the demeanor of an Altmer.

"No doubt you've heard of my great research?" Secret-Fire asked.

Like the young mage Wulfbore, Secret-Fire spoke in the strange Nord way with oddly accentuated S's.

"I heard from some of the townsfolk yes. I needed to see you. I once read a tome called Twin Secrets it-," S'maash was cut off by the rude mage.

"Of course you have and I'm familiar with the story. You came to see me because you wish to learn about Dragons. I'm not sure you could grasp my theories. You'd be better off studying at the College. They're known to accept novice mages," he replied arrogantly.

S'maash laughed.

"You should hear my theories old man," S'maash said.

"Is that so?" Farengar asked slightly taken aback.

"I was kicked out of the College for reason's I won't go into. The short of it is simple, Farengar. I'm convinced I can change the course of the art of Enchanting but without use of the College's resources I have to find someone, and somewhere, willing to lend a hand. I understand you don't owe me that opportunity. Never the less, I hope to have a discussion with you. If you'll be so kind as to hear me out, I'm sure a brilliant mage such as yourself will be intrigued." S'maash explained.

He had planned on buttering up Secret-Fire a bit in order to persuade him into listening. It was not the compliments that convinced Farengar, it was the look in S'maash's eyes, the same look the Dragonborn had possessed.

"I'm in the middle of important work. Why don't you return tomorrow morning?" Farengar suggested.

"Very well. I'll be here once the sun rises," S'maash agreed.

S'maash left the Jarl's palace for Whiterun. With nothing else to do, he strolled about town, listening to the cheery pitches of salesmen in the town market. The next portion of his plan involved the town Smith, which he had passed on his way into Whiterun. Before the evening sun set, S'maash approached the old woman pounding away at some steel beside the forge. She was engrossed in her work.

"Excuse me?" S'maash asked.

"Looking to protect yourself? Or deal some damage?" she asked.

"Neither," he replied.

"Then off with you Dark Elf, I don't have time to waste," she said.

"Apologies. I just wanted to price some Iron Ingots," S'maash stated.

"Ah," she said and stood. "I'm Adrianne."

"S'maash," he replied.

"My ingots go for about 20 Septims a piece," she informed him.

He looked over her hard face and wrinkles. She had to be close to sixty. S'maash was impressed that she could still work so fervently.

"I see," he said.

"You don't look like a Smith," she added.

"No, I'm an Enchanter. Farengar and I will be conducting some experiments… I hope," S'maash told her.

"Mm hmm. I never had much patience for that one. A bit arrogant if you ask me," she said.

"Like an Altmer," S'maash replied with a smile.

They continued speaking for a while longer. S'maash let her know he had only just arrived in town and didn't know how long he might stay. In turn, she gave him a brief history including Clan Gray-Mane's rise to power. S'maash learned that Thorald Gray-Mane, the eldest child, had inherited the throne. It originally belonged to a man named Balgruuf but after the Stormcloak invasion, the Gray-Manes sided with Ulfrich. Vignar then took the throne from Balgruuf. His nephew Thorald, who had originally fled Skyrim with his brother, returned once Vignar took the throne.

After the history lesson S'maash retired to the Temple of Kynareth. He had no money left and the kindly caretaker, Danica, let him stay the night free of charge, so long as helped with some chores the following morning. There were no wounded men to heal, so S'maash settled for some light cleaning. When the early sun rose, he made his way back to Dragonsreach. Farengar was in his quarters, mincing ingredients.

"Ah, returned for our discussion then?" he asked.

"Yes. I'd like to begin by thanking you for the opportunity. Now I'll keep my explanation concise. I've been practicing the art of Enchanting for a long time. I started back in Morrowind. Growing tired of the common Enchantments, I decided to learn as much as I could from our old tomes in L'Thu Oad. Naturally, I came across mention of Daedric artifacts and Dwemer artifacts. I had to know, why were they so much more potent? Why could those artifacts not be disenchanted? I was told to shut my mouth and keep doing my duties.

Eventually it was no longer enough for me. I had to learn the truth. I opted for an expedition through Damlzthur. My brother and some of his guildmates helped me but we did not discover anything. Returning to the Mages' Coalition, I received only jeers and scoffing. My brother's words persuaded me to continue my search for knowledge. So I packed up and moved to Cyrodiil.

There, I knew I could explore the Ayleid ruins, after all their truth suggested that Light was the truest form of magick. Since I had never dealt with a Light based enchantment, I decided I might have better luck in an Ayleid ruin as opposed to a picked clean Dwemer ruin. So I hired some protection for another expedition. From a man called Barbas I learned about the College of Winterhold.

Had I not been beaten badly by rogues in Cyrodiil, I might have stayed but the lure of endless resources and like minds pulled me to Skyrim. I successfully joined the College and made some advancements. After some miscommunication, it was believed I had been practicing Necromancy. I was not. Never the less, I was expelled," S'maash explained.

Farengar listened attentively, though he never looked up from his work.

"Yes, there has been quite the problem with Necromancy here in Skyrim. Some three or four years ago a new cult emerged from the old Forsworn territories. I assure you, anyone who may so much as think you're a Necromage, might simply kill you on the spot," Farengar said.

"Well… then I can better understand why Tolfdir made such a quick decision," S'maash stated.

"So why do you come here?" Farengar asked.

"I have theories. For instance, and I think you'll be intrigued, a blade cannot be enchanted to resist fire. A set of boots cannot be enchanted to deal fire damage, but why? Is it not just steel? Furthermore, is it not the wielder of the equipment who benefits from the enchantment? A Ring of Waterbreathing does not breathe water, the wearer does. And further… furthermore, can you not cast a Flame Cloak spell, essentially wearing the flame to deal damage without so much as warming your own skin?

I believe there are many advancements in the art of Enchanting to be made. Most recently I read Twin Secrets and learned-," S'maash was saying.

"That man and mer may cast two enchantments upon one item, yes. And I believe you hold some exceptional questions but I regress to my original question. Why have you come _here_?" Farengar asked again, still without looking from his work.

"I heard you worked with the Dragonborn. My theories dealing with soul absorption give rise to questions only you might know the answers to. I also heard you performed some experiments with a Dragon. I need to learn about them. It was a Dragon after all who gave the Twin Secret," S'maash explained.

Farengar paused finally looking from his work. S'maash could not see his eyes.

"Indeed. I have learned much over the past few years. Doubtless I'm the most advanced mage of my time," he said unabashedly.

"Then why not teach at the College?" S'maash asked.

"Why should I? I won't waste my time with the impetuous youth no, it is someone such as yourself, devoted and focused I have been waiting for. I will help you between my own experiments. So tell me what you need, whenever you need it. If I think I can help, I will. I may also be sending you to run errands for me, as I am very busy. In fact, I have one for you right now.

I've been working with Mammoth Tusk Powder. I learned of it from the Dragonborn who used it to help some Alchemist in Windhelm years ago but I have run low on supplies. Take this Coin Purse. Find a courier and give him this letter. It's for Quintus in Windhelm. He should be able to send some Powder my way. When you come back, I will help you with whatever your first step might be. Now, off with you," Farengar said.

S'maash felt a little rebuffed by Farengar's demeanor but it was truly no different than Rosoleola's and if Farengar truly was the best mage then S'maash was in luck. He left to find a courier. Whiterun, being a central trading hub in Skyrim, was home to the couriers' office. S'maash found the building between Belethor's General Goods and Arcadia's Cauldron. Upon entering, he found a young Imperial behind the counter, several crates of letters and packages sat behind him.

"Welcome to the couriers' central office need to ship something?" the young man asked eagerly.

"Farengar sent me with this letter for Quintus in Windhelm and here's the payment for delivery and purchase of the items on the list." S'maash said, handing everything over.

"Excellent," the Imperial replied as he looked over the letter. "We'll have the letter delivered for you within a few days, then a few days to have everything shipped back, if Quintus responds promptly."

S'maash thanked the courier then returned to Farengar.

"It's done?" Farengar asked.

"Yes," S'maash answered.

"Excellent. Now what will you need?" Farengar asked.

"As I've stated, enchantments on inanimate objects can take hold but there seems to be a discrepancy on what kind of enchantment can be placed on specific items. I want to see if I can cast Resist Fire on an Iron Ingot and have it pounded into a weapon allowing the wielder to draw upon the enchantment," S'maash stated.

"So what do you want from me?" Farengar asked as he sat at his desk flipping through parchment.

"The funds to purchase an ingot. Adrianne said they're 20 Septims each…" S'maash replied.

Farengar was silent for a moment as he continued searching for something. He sighed before answering.

"I suppose I can give you payment for your task. Fine," he said as he rose from the desk.

He then gave S'maash some coin. Promptly, he left to purchase the ingot, after which, he returned to Farengar but said nothing. Instead he stood looking at the mage.

"What is it? My patience is wearing thin," Farengar said.

"I need a Soul Gem…" S'maash replied.

"You get one for now," he said.

So S'maash took a Petty Soul Gem and set to his task. Casting the enchantment was easy enough. Afterwards, the Soul Gem shattered.

"Good. What is your next step?" Farengar asked.

"I'll take it back to Adrianne to see if she can forge a blade," S'maash answered.

"Best of luck," Farengar replied almost facetiously.

S'maash wondered about a possible veiled connotation in Farengar's reply but then left for the Smith. It was starting to get late. He assumed Adrianne would probably undertake the task the following morning. He was right.

"I have work to do Dark Elf but I'll see what I can manage. I am intrigued by your thoughts. Come back tomorrow afternoon I should have a conclusion for you," she told him.

Satisfied, S'maash wondered where he would stay for the night. He decided to return to Dragonsreach and ask Farengar.

"Must I provide you with everything?" Farengar asked with irritation in his voice.

"Apologies but I thought we were undertaking this task together," S'maash commented.

"Incorrect. This is your endeavor not mine but, I will speak to Thorald. He may be inclined to let you stay here for the night," Farengar said.

He then left S'maash alone for a moment. He returned later with good news.

"He says, so long as we don't burn the palace down you can stay. There are some beds the servants use down stairs. Go talk to them," Farengar said.

So S'maash slept in Dragonsreach's basement for the night. The following morning, he rose to meet with Farengar, who had a new task for him.

"While I await delivery I need you to obtain something. I've heard of a tome called "The Black Arts on Trial Revised Edition", a powerful Illusionist long since dead might be in possession of it. My research keeps me busy so I don't have time to acquire it myself. Go to Brood Cavern and retrieve it for me," Farengar ordered.

"But I'm supposed to get my results from Adrianne today," S'maash said.

"That's too bad. Perhaps I'll get the results for you but it isn't likely. You may simply tell her to hold off on your project. Now go. There isn't time to waste," Farengar ordered.

S'maash, making his way out of Whiterun, stopped by Adrianne's workshop. She was working at the tanning rack.

"Excuse me," S'maash started.

"I haven't gotten to it yet Dunmer. I only just arrived at my forge," she replied bluntly.

"Of course. I just wanted to let you know Farengar sent to me to retrieve something, so you can take all the time you need," he replied.

"Very well," she said in return.

S'maash left for Brood Cavern. It was a windy day, not overly cold. The Dark Elf traveled to the northwest in search of Brood Cavern. During his travel, he heard wolves howling in the distance. Fearing the worst, he overcharged an Oak Flesh spell in preparation. A wavering glow of light wrapped his form. As the cave came into view, a small pack of brown wolves descended from the hill before him. They circled him. Without so much as flinching, S'maash brought two Frostbite spells to his hands.

As the first Wolf attacked, the other two ran behind him. S'maash struck the first Wolf head on with a perpetual blast of frozen magick. It died within seconds but the other two bit at his back and legs dragging him to the ground. His Oak Flesh kept him from serious injury but the bites were still painful. S'maash let out cries of pain and rage as he pointed a palm at each Wolf. Seconds later, they too were dead, frozen over. As a trophy, and testament to his victory, he took their pelts. _A gift for Adrienne,_ he thought.

He proceeded into Brood Cavern. It was quite dark. S'maash cast Candle Light, revealing rough rock formations. To his surprise, there were many mushrooms growing all about the cave floor. As he journeyed cautiously, he stopped to pick several of them, Fly Amanita, Namira's Rot, Blisterwort. Most of them were unfamiliar to S'maash, either they didn't grow in Morrowind, or he had simply never come across them before.

There wasn't much in the way of danger in the cave, a few Skeever. The large, filthy, rats were easily disposed of. After blasting them with frost, he took their tails. S'maash followed the cave walls to a wooden door. He heard voices beyond it. People were discussing treasure. Someone was arguing about there being nothing of value in the cave. Footsteps came towards the door so S'maash hid as best he could, luckily his Candle Light spell died out just in time.

The door creaked opened and two men walked out. It was difficult to tell from where they hailed. One of the men was covered in Steel Plate, obviously the leader. The other man was wearing furs and carrying a large hammer on his back. They both walked in the direction of the cave's entrance. Slowly, S'maash approached the door. Hearing no more voices, he decided to peek in. It was a camp of sorts with tables, chairs, food and other miscellaneous items. S'maash saw another door at the far end. He assumed it led deeper into the cave where likely the tome lay undiscovered.

It never ceased to amaze him how bandits or treasure hunters always overlooked books as treasure. He hoped those men overlooked it as well. Before opening the second door, S'maash pilfered a few things, a Coin Purse, a Minor Healing Potion, and a Silver Necklace. He then made his way through the second door. Suddenly, he realized he might have to journey back through the previous room._ Guess I'll deal with that when I have to…_ he thought.

With the door secured behind him, he stood in the darkness. There was no alternative at that point, so he cast another Candle Light spell. The magick light revealed a narrow corridor. It proceeded at a steep descending angle. S'maash took a breath before pushing on. More mushrooms were growing form the rocky ground near the walls. He carefully collected a few more samples on his way down. After rounding some corners, S'maash came across some thick webbing. He did not care for spiders.

A rustling was barely audible beyond where he stood. He listened attentively then took a few steps. Listened some more then walked further. Rounding one last corner, he saw what was creating the sound, a lone spider, a very large, lone spider. There was no way to bypass the creature, as it was nearly as wide as the corridor. Fearing a venomous bite, S'maash cast Oak Flesh again and prepared for a fight.

He ducked to better aim a few Ice Spikes. First he fired one from his left hand then the right. Both spikes hit the spider but it turned, saw its assailant, and charged for S'maash. Realizing Ice magick had little effect, he switched to Flames. The billowing fire burned the spider to a crisp. The stench was awful but danger was averted.

Upon further examination, there were a few Egg Sacs in the room, nasty white globs formed from the spider's webbing, or so it seemed. S'maash managed to recover a handful of green, speckled, Spider Eggs. He thought back to his chicken experiment for a moment. S'maash shook himself from reverie. He was ready to delve deeper into the cave and locate "The Black Arts on Trial Revised Edition". The Egg Sac area had been much broader than the corridor leading to it. From the current location, there were two more paths to take. S'maash took to his left.

The rocky corridor eventually led to what seemed like a dead end. He looked carefully at the wall before him. Reaching out, he felt a barely distinguishable seam. _Hidden door?_ he wondered. S'maash observed the surroundings carefully. Behind him, on the right hand wall, was a small handle built into the rock. He pulled it out then turned it. The sound of stone scraping against stone assaulted his ears. A new path was revealed after a stone door sank into the ground.

It was a very short path. A few dozen paces lead S'maash into a burial chamber. A skeleton lay in a lidless tomb. S'maash peeked over the edges of the tomb. There was nothing inside other than the skeleton, so S'maash searched the room. A few burial jars lined one wall. A rotted shelf with ruined books lined another. A few Linen Wraps and Stamina Potions were readily available. Then something caught his eye.

He knelt by some larger stones piled up on the ground. He pulled them away revealing a broken chest. Inside he found the Illusion book, a few Septims, and some old Fur Armor. Not wishing to leave anything behind, S'maash took everything of value, including the contents of the Burial Jars. Once he was ready to leave, he had acquired a Steel Dagger, a few more potions, and a few more gold coins. S'maash left the room then took the previously unexplored corridor.

The narrow rocky hallway seemed to go on without end. It constantly curved in one direction then the other. It also seemed to proceed at an incline. After an hour of walking, S'maash saw some light. He ventured forth. The corridor spat him out into some hills. The evening sun was setting. He had been successful. Satisfied, he returned to Farengar.

**Chapter Nine Experimenting with Failure**

It was early morning in Whiterun. The sun had yet to rise. Dewey droplets fell from rooves as S'maash traveled to Dragonsreach. Before entering Farengar's study, he snatched a Sweet Roll off the large table in the Palace's dining room. Farengar was already working over the Arcane Enchanter.

"Made it back in one piece I see," he said.

"I recovered your tome," S'maash replied.

"Excellent, let's have it," Farengar said, with hand extended.

S'maash could not get a read on the strange wizard. He never allowed for eye contact. Even when he turned his head, his eyes were covered by his black robe's thick hood. Farengar placed the book on the Enchanter. As S'maash observed him, he saw the wizard sort of rifle through the pages. After only ten or so seconds, he tossed the book aside.

"Did you read this?" he asked.

"No. I ran it hear as fast as I could. Did you read it?" S'maash asked, surprised.

"Sometimes I forget average people lack the ability to absorb knowledge at a decent rate, forgive me," Farengar said.

S'maash grumbled._ Even his apologies are insults_, he thought.

"I suppose you expect some kind of payment. There's a Coin Purse on the table behind me. It's yours. You may also want to read the tome, when you have the time," Farengar stated.

At first S'maash remained silent. He took the purse and looked inside. He figured it was close to twenty Septims.

"So that's it?" S'maash asked.

"You expected more gold?" Farengar asked.

"No, I meant there isn't anything else you need," S'maash clarified.

"Not at this moment, no," Farengar answered.

"I'm going to rest for a bit then. Once I wake, I will check with Adrianne for results," S'maash said.

As S'maash turned to leave, he heard Farengar speak.

"Don't be overly optimistic. Our first projects usually yield very little knowledge." He said.

"What does that mean?" S'maash asked.

"It means… best of luck," he replied.

S'maash was too tired to care about more veiled insults. He went to sleep in the basement. Mere hours later, he woke. His mind had been overly preoccupied with obtaining results. He left for Whiterun. As usual, Adrianne was hard at work, outside her shop. Waves of heat were visibly wafting off the forge.

"How did it turn out?" S'maash asked.

"Not well I'm afraid. Your ingot shattered," she said, with both hands on her hips.

"Shattered? I didn't expect that…" S'maash said, more to himself.

"Care to buy another and try again?" she inquired.

S'maash thought for a moment.

"No. Thank you," he answered.

Disappointed, he went back to Farengar. He was certain the wizard knew something.

"Failure eh?" Farengar asked, still bent over the Enchanter.

"How did you know?" S'maash asked.

"It's simple really. Like any enchanted item, be it ring, blade, or ingot, once external forces are applied to a point causing an effect to the item in question, it shatters before changing. Magickal fire, or fires of a forge affect items similarly. Even a Master Smith cannot alter an enchanted item's structural physicality," Farengar explained.

"Why did you let me carry this experiment out? You could have told me it was a waste of time!" S'maash said, angrily.

"Watch your tone. It was not a waste of time. Think about who you are and what you've told about yourself. How many people have told you, you could not accomplish something. Did you try anyway?" Farengar asked.

S'maash sighed before responding, "yes, I did…"

"There you are. So what will you try next?" Farengar asked.

"I was running some tests on chickens back at the College. After a horrible accident, I succeeded in casting Fortify Carry Weight on an egg. I succeeded with a total of six. One hatched. I was able to verify my success by tying a small sack with ten small stones to its leg. That chick was the only one capable of pulling the sack." S'maash explained.

Farengar stopped what he was doing. He did not turn his head but was definitely intrigued.

"So… I recovered some Spider Eggs from Brood Cavern. I was thinking of picking up where I left off… although there would be giant spiders running about if I commenced here," S'maash added.

"I once heard of a mage who experimented on Frostbite Spiders. He was able to enchant them with the forces of Fire, Ice, and Lightning. I think the Dragonborn killed him but I can't be certain," Farengar replied.

"Truly? So… it can work? There is a way to enchant ourselves? Think of the possibilities. I-," S'maash was cut off.

"Calm yourself. Yes, I think there is a way but it only functions when dealing with creatures who hatch from eggs," Farengar stated.

"But why?" S'maash asked, disappointed.

"Because it is not truly alive until it has hatched, though some might argue differently. When dealing with mammals, such as you or I or bears or cats, there is no way to cast the enchantment on their un-birthed young," Farengar explained.

"I see… even though spells like Oak Flesh work? I guess it's a temporary change though… then my next endeavor will be…" S'maash said as he thought carefully.

"Your next endeavor will be to locate one of Shalidor's Insights," Farengar stated.

"What is that?" S'maash asked.

"Books left behind by Shalidor. I'm sure you've heard of him. He was one of the founders of the College of Winterhold and Archmage during the first era. I believe there is one specific book we require but you're going to have to travel somewhere dangerous.

You can choose to forego this adventure if your mettle is lacking. I am prepared to provide compensation before your journey, if you so choose to embark. I hope you accept. I can assure you, both of us will gain from this knowledge," Farengar said.

"Where am I going and how dangerous is it?" S'maash asked.

"Labyrinthian and very. You can ask me for just about anything. This is a most dangerous mission," Farengar stated.

S'maash thought for a moment. With his skill as an Enchanter, and Farengar's supplies, S'maash knew he could enchant his equipment in a manner to keep himself safe.

"All I need is some Grand Soul Gems filled with Grand Souls and a few pieces of ordinary equipment," S'maash said.

"Very well. You have access to my stock then. How will you use them?" Farengar asked.

So S'maash showed him. He started with a Ragged Cap. Upon the brown cap, he placed two enchantments, one of Fortify Destruction and one of Fortify Restoration. He repeated those same enchantments on a Silver Ring, Silver Necklace, and the Fur Armor he had recovered on his latest expedition. On a pair of Fur Boots he placed two enchantments as well, one was Muffle, the other, Fortify Sneak. On a pair of Leather Bracers, he placed two enchantments, one of Fortify Sneak and one of Fortify One Handed. He then took a Hide Shield. Upon the shield, he cast Fortify Block and Resist Magic. Lastly, he took an Imperial Sword, upon which he cast Fiery Soul Trap and Frost damage.

"That is excellent work. I suppose you'll want to take some empty Soul Gems with you?" Farengar asked.

"If you're willing," S'maash replied.

"So you can handle yourself with blade and shield?" Farengar asked as he handed over some empty Soul Gems.

"Not particularly, no… but I might as well learn," S'maash answered.

Before undertaking the monumental task, Farengar gave S'maash some food, water, potions, and marked his map.

"There are a few ways to Labyrinthian. It'll be easier to use the same routes some of the caravaneers use. Once you've arrived, you'll need to follow a particular path into a burial chamber. Unfortunately, even I don't know which one. Best of luck… try to come back alive," Farengar said.

S'maash nodded, packed his belongings, sheathed his blade, placed his shield on his back, and made for Labyrinthian. His fortification enchantments allowed him to utilize his Destruction and Restoration without so much as tapping an ounce of his Magicka reserves, so the sword and shield were just for emergency. Delighted to be on a journey for knowledge, he stepped out of Whiterun. Outside the Whiterun stables, he hired the Nord cart master for a ride to Morthal, going back the way he journeyed when going to Brood Cavern.

"Going to Morthal then?" the Nord asked.

"Actually, I need to go to Labyrinthian, so you can drop me off on your way to Morthal," S'maash clarified.

"Climb on back," the Nord stated.

S'maash hopped on the cart and began a discussion with the Nord.

"So The Jarl's wizard tells me Labyrinthian is dangerous," S'maash started.

"You mean you don't know about it?" the Nord asked.

"I've prepared as best I can. Farengar wants to protect his investment, I'm certain," S'maash answered.

"Never met that one, the Jarl's wizard. I heard tale he was half crazy," the Nord replied.

"He's not so bad, just involved in his work… whatever it is," S'maash said.

"Aye," the Nord replied.

The bumpy cart ride turned off the paved road and onto a beaten path. Hours passed by during their discussions. As they spoke of Whiterun, the other holds, and Skyrim's history, the sun set and cold winds blew. A little snow drifted about aimlessly. By early morning, before the sun rose, the Nord stopped his cart.

"You'll want to get off here and follow the mountains. You'll find the entrance your wizard marked for you. Be careful in there," the Nord said.

After the cart left, S'maash followed the instructions. He came upon some ruined arches and what looked like a cave-in in the side of the base of a cliff. He carefully approached the darkened area. With a Candle Light spell, he saw a way where he might wriggle in through some debris. Shrugging his shoulders, he forced himself through. After only a few feet, S'maash was inside a cave. Several ancient stone statues depicting large heads lied broken throughout.

Slowly, S'maash explored, picked mushrooms, examined statues, and so on. Finally, he reached a dead end. He inspected his surroundings. A pull chain hung off a wall to his left, covered in dust and cobwebs. He cleared them and tugged it. At first it was stuck, so S'maash braced one foot against the stone wall to pull with all his might. The chain came loose. Stone scraped against stone and a new path was revealed.

S'maash entered Labyrinthian proper.

**Chapter Ten Inside Labyrinthian**

S'maash gazed over the ancient Nord carvings. He wondered why Shalidor's Insights were located in such an ominous place. He believed the ruins were much older than Shalidor, meaning either the former Archmage had settled in Labyrinthian, or his works were moved to their current location for further study. It was irrelevant. S'maash did his best to skulk about.

With his enchanted equipment, he made no sounds as he stepped over rubble. Slowly, he descended the depths of Labyrinthian. After rounding a corner, he saw his first obstacle, a lone skeleton with an Ancient Nord Great Sword in hand, the wicked blade was rusted over. The creaking of its bones was unnerving. S'maash watched it for a second. _Blasted undead, _he thought.

Knowing skeletons were generally weak, S'maash held hands poised for an over charged Fire Bolt spell. He let it fly across the room housing the skeleton. The orange ball of magickal fire lit up the area before crashing into his adversary. The skeleton was blown to little bony bites. S'maash dusted his hands and bobbed his head a bit in a jaunty manner._ Simple enough._

He slowly walked over to the smoldering bones. They had gone flying. The resulting mess was little more than a faint reminder of danger. With all the time, and no more enemies, S'maash was free to gaze about the massive room. A steel grate sat at the center. The walls were lined with black tombs. Rotted shelving lined the far wall. There was little else to look at but there was more path to be trekked.

S'maash pressed forward, still skulking. After moments, he entered a roughly hewn corridor. It was very tall, hewn from the native brown stone. In both sides were nooks, carved away housing for the dead. S'maash carefully observed one of the mummified corpses. It appeared desiccated. Otherwise it was fairly intact. The ancient Nord wore rotted leather equipment with bits of rusted steel protecting vitals. Suddenly, it shifted as it let out a groan. S'maash jumped in the air from surprise. The Draugr came to stand with an Ebony War Axe in hand, magicka radiated from cold, blue, undead eyes.

"Back to Oblivion creature!" S'maash yelled.

As he yelled, S'maash fired another overcharged Fire Bolt. It staggered the creature upon impact as well as caught it aflame but the creature charged forward, swinging wildly. S'maash attempted to duck, taking the brunt of the blow to the shield on his back. The impact sent him straight to the ground. He scrambled away to the other wall and let loose a Fire Bolt from each hand. The Draugr burst into flames then fell to a knee. It died… again.

The battle drew the attention of other Draugr in the long hallway. They came for S'maash brandishing their ancient weapons. With little time to spare, S'maash casted Iron Flesh with one hand and Flame Cloak with the other. Soon as he did, spurts of magickal flame danced around his being. The Draugr did their best to deal damage but S'maash back peddled as he poured Flames from his fists onto the monsters. Two fell but one kept the pressure on.

It held an Ancient Nord Sword in one hand while firing Ice Bolts from the other. The bald, bearded, brute then shouted at the top of its lungs.

"Fus Roh Da!" echoed in a breathy shout.

The beast's voice was so potent it rocked S'maash, causing him not only to stagger, but to lose concentration, effectively breaking his spell. By the time he recovered, the Draugr White was on him, slashing away. The Ancient Nord Sword had a slight hook in the tip of the blade. For the most part, it only caught at S'maash equipment, resulting in moderate damage.

S'maash took severe bruising and a few cuts before he drew his sword. Fear gripped his heart but rage gripped his fists. He swung madly at first. The few swings nearly took all his breath but the Draugr White was brought to a knee. That provided S'maash the opportunity to snatch his shield. He brought it across his enemy's jaw from his left, edge-wise. With a swing back from his right, he brought the broad side of shield across the monster's face. With a final overhead blow from his sword, the Draugr White glowed purple, the Soul Trap spell had taken effect. The enemy was defeated and one Black Soul Gem reverberated with the filtering of a new soul.

S'maash sat to catch his breath. He had never struggled physically so much in his life. In a way, he understood why his brother and his friends loved being a part of the Reyda Tong. In another, more real way, he did not want to have to go through all that again. He shook his head, put his weapons away, and held his hands up to dual cast Healing. After mere seconds, his wounds were numb, then gone. He pressed forward.

The long trip through the enormous burial hall yielded little, though S'maash did manage a few Septims and potions from the Burial Jars and Urns. After a tiring trip, he took a break before a large wooden door. The rich brown of the wood had faded over the years to a dusty gray. A few minutes passed wherein S'maash ate, drank, and relieved himself. Once refreshed, he pushed the doors open. A set of spiraling wooden steps led the way down. Cautiously, S'maash followed them to his new destination.

The staircase led into another cave-like area similar to the entrance. More stone statue heads were carved into the high walls. Several ancient posts held the hewn rock in position. A few braziers burned brightly. S'maash looked upon them carefully, they had the look of being freshly lit. Carefully and slowly, S'maash skulked onwards. The new area proved to be disorienting. Many twists, turns, and burial chambers caused him some confusion. Before he could complain, he spotted movement.

A Draugr White was posed erect in an alcove. It slowly stepped down and opened its eyes. The blue glow of unlife focused on S'maash. With his hands at the ready, the Dark Elf fired several Ice Spikes at the beast. They did well enough to slow its momentum. The Draugr White had a few yards yet to cover before reaching S'maash then the foul voice erupted again.

"Fus Roh Da!" the Draugr shouted.

S'maash was staggered by its effect. Freshly unfrozen, the monster charged forward, Steel Great Sword in hand. With no shortage of Magicka, S'maash overcharged Ice Storm and sent the frozen mass swirling towards his assailant. The tornado-like spell froze the ground along its path, struck the Draugr White, and crashed into the wall behind the enemy. The fight was over.

"They don't stop coming do they?" S'maash asked the eerie surroundings.

There was no reply. After a thorough inspection of the area, S'maash found a few treasures, Soul Gems, Septims, some reagents, and some rather fine looking weapons. He took what he could from adjacent alcoves, the weapons he left behind. There was no need for them. He pressed on, deeper into Labyrinthian.

Over an hour of skulking went by with relative ease and silence. S'maash then came upon a small, circular room. At its center was a pedestal with three levers. Beyond the pedestal was a series of portcullises. They blocked the passage to some stairs leading up. S'maash was curious.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the levers. _Simple enough_, he thought. He pulled one lever and the furthest portcullis rose. He pulled another lever but that caused the far portcullis to lower and nothing else. He stopped for a second. He pulled the first lever again. The closest portcullis rose.

"What?" he asked.

So he reset the levers to their former position, resulting in all gates being lowered. He pulled the first lever. The first portcullis rose. He pulled the third lever. The farthest one rose. He pulled the center lever resulting in the center portcullis raising but the other two lowering, so he pulled the first one again. The corresponding portcullis lifted. Next he pulled the final lever. All the gates were raised. S'maash walked up the stone steps to another wooden door. He pushed it open, peeked down the hall, and walked forward.

Unfortunately, he had not paid attention to the ground. After activating a pressure plate, he looked down. As he removed his foot, he feared the worst and nearly received it. A large wooden post came swinging into him. The potent blow knocked him all the way back down the steps. Breathless, he curled up, only able to groan. After a few seconds, he was able to stand. A quick healing spell fixed the rest. Hurt but not broken, he went back up the stairs to find the post had reset into the ceiling above. That time he stepped over the round, bronze plate.

A short walk took him to one more puzzle. At the far end of a rectangular stone room was a large set of wooden double doors. Before the doors, stood a lone lever on a pedestal. Surrounding the lever were stone carvings. Each carving depicted the same three icons, a snake, a whale, and an eagle. S'maash wondered how to solve it.

He carefully inspected his surroundings. First he approached one of the totems. After gently touching the carving, he realized it could be spun so any of the three icons faced the center of the room. _But which one is the right icon?_ he wondered. He stood and continued his search for a clue. There was nothing. He paused for a moment looking at the doors._ Well… maybe it's already open._ He walked to the doors. They were firmly held in place, but the handles, they depicted similar icons. The left handle showed an eagle, the right a snake.

S'maash returned to the totems. He spun the two on the left pointing the eagle to the center of the room and the two on the right he spun to show the snake. He tried the leaver. The doors' mechanisms released, forcing them into a wide-open position. From his vantage point, he saw a massive burial chamber. At the far end was a concave stone wall with strange script. Before the wall was another black casket. As S'maash approached, he saw several caskets lining the walls on either side. He knew he was in for a fight.

His first action was overcharging Iron Flesh. Then he slowly entered the chamber. Upon stepping in, the sound of bursting caskets drew his attention. Two Restless Draugr, axes in hand, grumbled as they made their way towards the interloper. S'maash backed up to the entry way._ Maybe I can force them together hindering their movement._ Both of his hands were poised for an Ice Storm spell.

As the leathery undead approached him, he let loose an icy fury. The first flash freeze had little effect but the second slowed the enemy's approach. Feeling confident, he sent one back to death with a third blast. The second Draugr closed the distance. It swung its blade powerfully from side to side. S'maash was jolted by the impact but his protection spell held firm. Switching to Frost Breath, he held both palms out freezing everything before him. The Draugr slowed, took a knee then fell over dead. S'maash took a second to catch his breath.

In that second more caskets exploded, revealing Draugr Whites. S'maash shook his head in desperation. The Whites charged at him full bore, glowing blue eyes aflame. Having few alternatives, S'maash ran back through the puzzle room all the way to the stairs. He deftly hopped over the pressure plate, reaching the bottom of the stairs where he waited. The distinct sound of the plate activating rang throughout Labyrinthian. Both Whites came tumbling down the steps to S'maash's feet. He blasted them repeatedly with Ice Storm.

While it took the monsters a few seconds to recover, they seemed unhindered by the damaging effects of S'maash's Destruction magick. He drew his Imperial Sword and Hide Shield to defend himself from their advance. Holding the shield in front of his face as one of the Whites swung its Ancient Nord Great Sword proved slightly effective. The other White held its blade in one hand, firing Ice Spikes with the other. S'maash grunted in pain. The freezing effect drew his breath away.

He managed one shield bash, staggering the White closest to him, the one with the Great Sword. He then brought his own sword onto the top of its head. It glowed purple as it burned from the Fiery Soul Trap enchantment. In an attempt to keep one enemy between himself and the other, he managed to avoid a few more Ice Spikes. Subsequently, they injured the other Draugr. With one final blow, he defeated one of the Whites but still had to deal with a flurry of Ice Spikes. The magickal crystals stuck into his flesh, providing an unwavering cold pain.

S'maash dropped to one knee before vaulting himself, sword thrusting, into the final White. It too, took on the fiery glow of the blade's enchantment. S'maash threw one more shield bash, striking the monster with the shield's edge. As it staggered back a few steps, S'maash dropped the shield and pointed a palm full of thunderous fury at his opponent. Purple shards of lightning enveloped the Draugr as S'maash wielded Sparks. After draining the remaining Magicka from the Draugr White, it resigned to swinging its Ancient Nord Sword. Unfortunately, S'maash was unable to block effectively with his own blade. Then his Iron Flesh wore off.

Cross slashes and thrusting blows from the White dealt some serious damage to the Dark Elf. The painful blows of the sword both cut him and broke a few ribs. His Fur Armor did not withstand the impacts. One slash knocked him over sideways. The Draugr bore down upon him, blade pointing down ready for piercing death. S'maash snatched his shield from the ground in time. The sword penetrated his Hide Shield. The two wrestled for a bit before both blade and shield went skidding across the ground.

The Draugr reached down and grabbed S'maash. At point blank range, the Dark Elf took the Draugr's leathery face in his hands. He blasted it with more Sparks. The monster's head exploded from the spell. Gravely injured, S'maash rolled his travel pack off his shoulders. With great pain in his midsection, he moved slowly to retrieve a few bottles of the red Healing Potions. With a belly full of the liquid, he was restored to fighting condition. He gathered his gear but was unable to remove the Draugr's sword from his Hide Shield. He sighed, casted Iron Flesh, and returned into the fray.

A final enemy stood poised at the ready in the large burial chamber. It wore black armor, a helmet with horns, and carried a malevolent looking Ebony War Hammer. Its blue eyes pierced S'maash's soul. The Draugr Death Lord opened its foul mouth, releasing a powerful shout.

"Fus… Roh Da!" it yelled in a breathy voice.

A vocal blast nailed S'maash squarely in the chest. The Thu'um sent him reeling. His back smashed against the lever pedestal in the puzzle room. Luckily, his travel pack absorbed some of the impact. As he recovered, the Death Lord brought the hammer down upon his shoulder. A fierce pain gripped his body. Fear gripped his heart. S'maash held a firm gaze upon his enemy. He wrapped his hand around his own blade. With two hands on the weapon, he pushed back against the Death Lord's hammer. The two struggled for a moment.

As S'maash kept the enemy's weapon from doing more damage, he kicked at the monster. Finally, the Death Lord over powered him. S'maash fell to the ground again, his left hand bleeding from the edge of his blade. For a few seconds, S'maash found himself rolling all over the dusty floor. He escaped numerous hammer blows before moving to the other side of the lever pedestal. In an attempt to keep distance between himself and the Draugr, the two played a game of Sabre Cat and Skeever. The Death Lord chased him and S'maash ran around the pedestal. The Draugr moved the other way, and again, S'maash ran around the pedestal.

He knew it was ineffective but he was frightened. His only option was to continuously run in circles, all the while, he peppered the undead beast with Frost Breath. It took minutes but the Draugr grew slow and weary from the unceasing onslaught of frozen magicka. Its legs froze over. For a moment, it was unable to move. S'maash took the opportunity to recover his sword. By keeping the pedestal between himself and the Draugr, he was able to make a few swipes of his blade and freeze the monster with his other hand.

The Draugr struck him a few more times with the war hammer but S'maash took it rather gracefully. Finally, the Death Lord took a knee. S'maash quickly approached it, grabbed his blade with two hands and hacked the Draugr to pieces. He did not stop until it was dismembered. Completely exhausted, S'maash fell to the ground, his face beaten and bloody. With heavy breaths, he laid his sword upon the ground. Dual casting Healing refreshed him. With one final breath, he stood and reentered the burial chamber. He thought the fight was over. It was not.

**Chapter Eleven A Curious Insight**

Upon reentering the burial chamber, S'maash heard once more the distinct sound of a casket lid coming apart. From the center of the chamber, a bony hand emerged from the black casket. A crowned figure rose, garbed in lilac robes with golden plates covering bony arms. The Dragon Priest came floating from its former place of resting. Long, matted, hair stuck to remnants of skin.

S'maash's quick thinking led him to believe dual casting a Lightning spell was in his best interest. He fired several rounds of Thunder Bolt in the hopes of draining the Priest's Magicka. Violent streaks of purple lightning collided with the desiccated being. The Dragon Priest however, had risen with his staff in hand, a twisted emblem of Dragon worship. The figure slowly listed towards S'maash, floating inches from the ground. With its dragon-headed staff, it hurled repeated Snow Storms, dealing some severe damage.

S'maash and the Priest meandered about the room, trading magickal blows. Dust from the ancient floor raised in small clouds. Rubble was sent reeling from the powerful blasts of Ice and Lightning. Feeling drained of Health, S'maash switched tactics. He utilized Fast Healing with his left hand as he took his blade in his right. He charged at the enemy, albeit slowly due to his weakened state. After closing the distance, S'maash swung at the Dragon Priest who easily swayed backwards, free from the blade's impact.

With a modicum of Magicka returned, the Dragon Priest conjured a Flame Atronach. The newly summoned fiery harlot skated about the room, tossing Fire Ball after Fire Ball at the Dark Elf. She swayed in a dance-like fashion as her flaming body pulsated with raw power. The disadvantage of attacks coming from multiple areas made it increasingly difficult for S'maash to hold his ground, with no alternative he silently prayed to his ancestors while continuing his advancement towards the ever-fleeing Dragon Priest.

A wavering fire enveloped S'maash's body. His Ancestor's Wrath was with him. Feeling the burning desire for victory, S'maash redoubled his efforts. He lunged forward with his blade arm fully extended. The tip of the sword connected with the Priest. Fire Balls continued to rain about the chamber as purple flashes of Sparks flew from S'maash's fingertips.

With no more room to flee, S'maash had his enemy cornered. It was evident his spells had little effect but his sword dealt enough damage. He swung overhead, from one side, then the other. Sword strike after sword strike landed upon the bony figure. Then the blade swung through air, hitting nothing. In the heat of battle, S'maash lost sight of his opponent. Altogether too many Fire Balls crashed into his body. The brightness of the small explosions obscured his vision. Screaming Elven curses, he threw his head about in search of the Dragon Priest.

In mere seconds the Priest had floated halfway across the chamber. At that point, the Atronach was closer to S'maash so he opted for an attempt to bring the voluptuous monster to her knees. He took off at a full run, covering some ground. A sudden gust of painful cold gripped his legs. More rounds of Snow Storm poured from the Priest's staff.

"S'wit! I won't die here!" S'maash yelled.

Again, he ran at the Atronach, who danced and swirled with haunting beauty as she rained more and more Fire Balls upon her assailant. S'maash reached her. He smashed his blade across her horned head. She gripped his arm with a searing hand but S'maash did not care. He butted her with the pommel as another Snow Storm crashed upon his back, slowly freezing his armor. With his left hand he held her at bay, enveloping her with his Sparks and his Ancestor's Wrath. He continued to bring his blade upon her head. She fell. A purple flash enveloped her. She was gone, banished to Oblivion.

Another Snow Storm at S'maash's back brought him to his knees. As he scrambled behind a broken casket he returned to Fast Heal, a few casts were enough to restore his Health but he was exhausted. For only a second, he wished he was back home, safe at the mages' workshop, but he was not. Peeking from behind the casket, he saw the greater portion of the chamber had frozen over. He decided to fight frost with frost.

In one powerful motion, S'maash stood, Thunder Bolt in one hand Snow Storm in the other. A battle of mages brought the crashing of Magicka all across the chamber. Pieces of caskets flew from magickal impacts. Dust from the ground swirled about, froze over, and fell back to the stony floor. The two wizards walked slowly, keeping a firm gaze upon each other. One of them was going to falter.

"Just die N'wah!" S'maash called out.

"Aav Ko Dinok," the Priest replied in his ancient tongue.

The Dragon Priest's breathy whisper was enough to send a lesser mer fleeing.

"I. Will. Not. Falter! Beast!" S'maash yelled with all his might.

While the potent spells wreaked havoc upon the casters, S'maash felt his vigor ebb away. He was cold, hurt, tired, and losing sight. He could not focus. He healed once more. The Priest, then devoid of Magicka, his staff not enough to subdue the lionhearted S'maash, took a knee. It looked up, a hatred burned behind its soulless eyes.

"Nust Fen Funt, Jul," it said.

With one final push, S'maash screamed, walking forward, both palms pulsating from dual Snow Storms. An awful tension rocked his knotted arm muscles. The Dragon Priest let out a hallow scream. It floated a bit higher, fell over in the air, and crashed to the ground as a pile of glowing cinder. S'maash fell to his knees. His vision tunneled. _Have I exhausted myself?_ he wondered. An impact jarred him violently. He passed out after his face smacked upon the hard ground of Labyrinthian's burial chamber.

For a moment there was nothing, only blackness. From blackness sprung dreams, dreams of home. Familiar faces, a name.

"S'maash," an unseen voice called.

"S'maash," the deep and dreadful voice spoke.

"S'maash," a voice was demanding his attention.

With a wild inhalation, S'maash snapped his eyes open. He saw the dusty ground beneath him. He looked up. A virulent and Wretched Abyss had presented itself. It was a dark, swirling mass of blackness. Deep hues of purple intertwined with the abyss.

"S'maash," the deep voice called.

Animal fear gripped his heart. S'maash scrambled onto his posterior. He attempted to back away.

"Fear not S'maash. I am Hermaeus Mora. I have been observing you," the Daedric Prince said.

"What do you want of me foul demon?" S'maash asked.

"I am pleased to see you so diligently striving for knowledge. I wish to aid those who seek enlightenment. I only ask a small favor. Serve me," Hermaeus Mora commanded.

"Never," S'maash whispered.

"I can show you that which is hidden to most. Return to Farengar. Inform him that I, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge, have sent you. Tell him to explain what he knows, what I have shown him. Go before I swallow you into my Wretched Abyss…" the eerie voice trailed away.

S'maash could not believe what he had witnessed. As the adrenaline wore off, the pain from his battles set in. His body ached but he stood. He remembered what he had been doing, recovering Shalidor's Insights. _Glad that's over. Wonder where they are?_ He spotted something, the glowing cinders. Slowly, he approached them. He sifted through the remains, revealing some Bone Meal, quite a few Septims, a Staff of Snow Storm, and Shalidor's Insights.

He took it all then opened the blue book. The pages inside were nonsensical, only images and strange runes, a few diagrams. S'maash was surprised. It did not matter to him. He had accomplished his task. _A return to Whiterun is in order. That wizard had better reveal his purpose to me…_ S'maash thought.

It was a long trip back through Labyrinthian, back to Whiterun. At the very least, the long haul through Labyrinthian was no longer riddled with angry Draugr. It took the better part of two hours for the weakened Dark Elf to reach the tight exit. He wriggled through into daylight. While safe, he decided to eat and drink. The mundane nature of thirst and hunger had eluded S'maash while in search for the book. After a short rest, S'maash proceeded with his long walk back to Whiterun.

The day passed by with relative ease. The warm sun slowly moved across the sky. It was a balmy day. Skyrim's endless beauty refreshed S'maash's heart. He did not know if it was the victory in battle, the successful claiming of lost knowledge, or the food and drink in his belly, but he was happy, happier than he could ever remember being. His only wish was that his brother had fought along beside him. _I'll have to write S'maath a letter regarding this travel._

The following morning, he saw Dragonsreach in the distance. A fog had crept in during the cold night. The sun had not yet vanquished it. S'maash continued trudging along the soils of Skyrim. Stars still danced in the black night. There were no moons. After another hour, he reached Whiterun's gates. He entered the town.

Normally, guards stood by, making certain the entrance was well protected. S'maash found it oddly deserted instead. He continued down the paved road into the center of town. There, he saw most of the town guard, their backs to him.

"Excuse me," he said.

One guard turned to face him with a snarkey remark, "let me guess, someone stole your sweet roll."

"No… what's happened here?" he asked.

"That wizard, the Jarl's. He just killed a Caitiff," another guard replied.

"Where did that demon come from anyway?" a third guard asked.

Suddenly, they went wild with chatter. S'maash pushed through. A dead Caitiff lied in the street, chest torn sunder. The demon possessed red and black skin stretched over a disfigured face. The Dremora were awful creatures. A trail of blood led to Dragonsreach. S'maash followed it. As he did, he spotted Farengar's black silhouette climbing the steps to the palace. S'maash gave chase. Once he caught up to the wizard, he asked a barrage of questions.

"Calm yourself. I will answer once we are inside. Did you find it, Shalidor's Insight?" Farengar asked.

S'maash was going to answer until he saw the still beating Daedra Heart in Farengar's grip. The two entered Dragonsreach.

**Chapter Twelve A Sacrifice for Knowledge**

Farengar walked to his study with no regard for the little droplets of blood in his wake. S'maash made attempts to circumvent them as he followed. In the study, the wizard placed the Daedra Heart on the Arcane Enchanter.

"You were saying?" Farengar asked.

"Hermaeus Mora contacted me in Labyrinthian and here's your book," S'maash said.

"Ah, excellent. So I suppose Hermaeus Mora told you to ask me what we're doing," Farengar started.

S'maash nodded accordingly.

"It's simple really. After I retrieved the blood and scales of Odahviing, I conducted experiments on the nature of Dragons. I found their scales to be quite resilient, both physically and magickally. Furthermore, I discovered it is their blood, which grants them a seemingly endless life span. On occasion, they may go into a sort of hibernation-," Farengar explained.

"Wait a minute! I want to talk about Hermaeus Mora and what you're doing with that heart," S'maash interjected.

"Patience. Do not interrupt me again. Now, my studies led me to believe it was possible to extend the lives of man and mer, heal their wounds, cure their ailments, and so forth. I delved as deep as I could into Dragon lore. After speaking with the Dragonborn, I went in search of the Blades. They were unwilling to cooperate," Farengar said.

S'maash was familiar with the Blades, as they had a prominent position in Morrowind during the Third era. So far as S'maash knew, they were mainly protectors of Cyrodiil's emperors. It was unbeknownst to the Dark Elf that the Blades originated as a clan of Dragon slayers. He continued to listen to Farengar's explanation.

"After extensive research and careful experimentation, I stumbled onto a potion I could mix, using powdered Dragon Scales. A bit of refined Dragon blood was needed as well. By the time I came close to the progeny of my research I hit a wall. I could not find the proper reagent to finalize my potion. With only a small sample of the Dragon's elements, there was no way to attempt a use of all the reagents at my disposal. Seeking knowledge, I discovered a way to summon Hermaeus Mora.

After an extended conversation, we came to an agreement. I won't bore you with the details, suffice it to say, I completed my task. In return, Hermaeus Mora gave me the ability to see what I needed. I mean that most literally," Farengar said.

Upon completion of his explanation, he drew back his hood. S'maash was shocked to see his eyes. They were not human. Farengar's irises had vanished. His eyes were white with huge black veins.

"What is that?!" S'maash asked, almost frightened.

"I see Magicka as it flows in the universe. The mysteries and natures of all things magickal are revealed to me almost immediately. Due to that fact, and as you've witnessed, I can surmise knowledge from any book within seconds. Where you see nonsensical scribblings of a mad mage, I see Shalidor's Insights as he saw them. We needed this particular book… Hermaeus Mora he… he was not finished with me," Farengar explained.

His voice had grown despondent as he neared the end of his speech.

"How does this involve me?" S'maash inquired.

"Simple, your desire for truth and knowledge exceeds time no? You seek the old school of Enchanting, one that even the Daedra no longer practice due to its inherent danger," Farengar replied.

"I'm afraid you're not making sense," S'maash said.

He could no longer bear to watch those strange eyes.

"I'm making perfect sense. How do you think the Daedric Princes came to be so powerful? The Gods them selves enchanted their very essence," Farengar answered.

S'maash had not realized the gravity of his theories on enchanting creatures until that moment. He was playing as one of the Gods.

"So my machinations attracted Hermaeus Mora?" S'maash asked.

"Naturally. He is lord of fate as well as knowledge. If you can undertake his tasks without faltering, you will learn everything you desire, though you may no longer be the mer you are today. Truly, I am no more Farengar Secret-Fire than you are… that man is gone but, it is easier to hold on to familiar customs is it not?" Farengar asked.

S'maash nodded, less from understanding than mere astonishment. He thought for a moment. He did desire knowledge, though he assumed it was derived from research and experimentation. Farengar's, and by extension Hermaeus Mora's, proposal seemed outlandish. _Or is it?_ It was too enticing.

"So what are we doing?" S'maash asked.

"I had you figured for a mer of action. This is my final experiment. I have left you all the instructions in my desk. Once this is over, you are to reside here. Thorald is aware of these changes. Now, you're no doubt familiar with the Black Star," Farengar said.

"I have heard it mentioned. I know more about The Star of Azura…" S'maash said reluctantly.

"Of course. The principles are the same. With no connection to Azura, the Black Star now only filters Black Souls. As you well know, there is… an emptiness in the void, so to speak. We will craft a new vessel. I mentioned earlier, Dragon's blood brings long life but it is their souls, which makes them immortal. Until the Dragonborn's arrival, they could be defeated but not killed. His ability to steal their souls brought them to their demise.

After the death of Alduin, the Dragonborn changed… as I have. He became less a man and more… well, more Dragon. Unfortunately, there was no way to capture a Dragon's soul, they resist Soul Trap, and no vessel can hold a soul so potent, no inanimate vessel that is, until now," Farengar spoke dramatically.

It was a great deal of information for S'maash to take in. His head spun, forcing him to take a seat. He glanced about the room in an effort to regain his composure. All the Soul Gems gleamed from the fires around the study. S'maash rubbed the desk's thick mahogany to bring himself back to reality.

"What will we do with Dragon Souls?" S'maash asked.

"We?" Farengar asked in return. "Nothing. I am leaving this plane to live forever in a manner indescribable. Hermaeus Mora explained the ramifications and I accepted his proposal. Even if I were doubtful, now there is no turning back for me. I will explain what we will do."

"I'm listening," S'maash said.

While it was a true statement, that he was listening, he was also wondering what would become of his new mentor.

"We will begin by fusing a Daedra Heart with a Black Soul Gem. Shalidor's Insight contains a passage with diagrams and incantations," he said as he took the book from the desk. "The fusion can only be done by a willing participant. Hold both of these in your left hand."

S'maash stood with open hands accepting the heart and gem. He looked at Farengar questioningly.

"Now you will cast Soul Trap on my person," Farengar instructed.

"What?" S'maash asked.

"Be quiet and follow your instructions. There is no room for error," Farengar chastised.

S'maash faltered for a second as he looked into his mentor's strange eyes. He raised his hand, charged the spell, and cast it upon Farengar. A purple glow took hold of the Nord's body.

"Excellent. I can feel it. Goodbye S'maash. It was truly a pleasure to spend my last moments as a man in good company," he said.

S'maash grew teary-eyed. He was unsure of what was happening before him. Suddenly, Farengar made concentric circles with both hands. They turned bright red with a glow from Oblivion itself. Then the light radiated from Farengar's entire body. He slowly lifted off the ground. A flash of red light accosted the room. The painful glare forced a yell from S'maash and a powerful gust knocked him to the floor. Unwittingly, he dropped the objects from his left hand.

Frightened, he opened his eyes, searching frantically for the heart and gem. Instead he found a strange object. The Daedric Heart Gem, a glowing black and red Soul Gem in the shape of a Daedric Heart, only smaller, and more malevolent looking. A few feet away, sat a glowing pile of red and black cinders. Farengar had departed from the world.

"No…" S'maash said, choking on soft tears.

He took the Daedric Heart Gem and placed it upon the Arcane Enchanter. For a second, he felt Farengar's presence. He had felt it radiate from the gem. After wiping away a few tears, he noticed the entire room was in disarray. One of the servants, an old woman peeked in.

"He's gone… Farengar's gone," S'maash said.

Whatever had transpired, she wanted no part of it and quickly left. S'maash sat at the desk. Then he remembered Farengar had mentioned leaving a note. S'maash opened the desk to find more than a note, there was an entire journal awaiting his eyes. He took the leather bound notebook. After a deep inhalation, he took to reading its contents. They progressed as follows:_ I have completed herein my own research as well as that of my student, S'maash. First and foremost, I recommend you reinstate his place at your College of Winterhold as I can attest to his stature. He is not a Necromage, nor was he ever one._

S'maash was almost brought to tears once more by the statements within the journal. After the introduction was, a catalogue of the experiments conducted by Farengar. After those, were the experiments conducted by S'maash. Finally, there was a catalogue of the experiments they had been conducting together, up to and including the creation of the Daedric Heart Gem.

_While this gem does not hold the ability to filter Dragon Souls, it does slightly amplify the souls of men, mer, and demon. That alone is a step towards greatness but it is incomplete. In its current state, it will, as all Soul Gems, shatter after only one use. To remedy that, it must be brought before Azura._

_Should she accept the vessel in her honor, and I have no doubt she will, she may bestow upon it the Breath of Everlasting. This incantation may only be applied in her very own realm, one of many realms of Oblivion. Once the gem is offered, she may provide more information._

_As for me, Farengar Secret-Fire, I have filtered my own soul willingly into the vessel. Please do not use me for Enchanting purposes. Once the Breath of Everlasting has been bestowed upon the vessel, I will have a small window of opportunity. I will escape to join Hermaeus Mora in his plane of Oblivion._

S'maash, I personally thank you for your efforts. Show this to the old man, Tolfdir. The rune at the bottom of the page will certainly force him to reconsider your acceptance into the College of Winterhold.

At the bottom of the page was in fact an odd marking, one S'maash had never seen. Under the journal was another note. S'maash quickly read it as well. It was signed by Thorald, who accepted S'maash as the new court wizard of Dragonsreach. The last few pages of the journal indicated the following steps S'maash needed to undertake in order to accomplish Farengar's final project.

He looked them over in dismay as he was unsure of just what Farengar had in mind. Exhausted from his travels and the recent events, S'maash took a seat. His head was spinning. _Time to return to the College then, _he thought.

Before making a long trip to Winterhold, S'maash met wit Thorald in the throne room. The Jarl was a large Nord with thick graying hair. His fine clothes consisted of heavy cloths comprised of bright colors. The golden hues and bright reds gave him a regal bearing few Nords possessed. The braziers burned brightly, casting ominous shadows inside the palace. Thorald appeared a brute of a Nord but spoke with a surprisingly kind demeanor.

"The crazy wizard has passed on then?" he asked.

"Yes, but I fear I don't know how to be a court wizard," S'maash complained.

"No worries. We're currently experiencing some peace in Skyrim. Besides, I never understood a damn word that arrogant wizard ever said to me. You look more my type, I see the spirit of travel and adventure in your eyes," Thorald said.

After a short discussion, explaining his rather lax duties, S'maash was granted a leave of absence to return to The College of Winterhold. He took a cart ride to the northeast once more.

**Chapter Thirteen A Contract with Lady Azura**

S'maash was slowly rocked from side to side as he endured the long cart ride from Whiterun to Winterhold. Mere hours after traveling north, the winds turned to snow. Though it was cold, S'maash managed to fall asleep. The recent trials and tribulations had exhausted both his mind and spirit completely, so much so that he slept all the way to Winterhold. Suddenly, he was shaken to daylight.

"Wake up. We've arrived," the cart driver said.

Lazily, S'maash looked around. They had in fact arrived. S'maash thanked the man before approaching the College of Winterhold. Upon seeing the stone arches and bridge, sentimentality gripped him. Faralda glared at him from her post.

"Greetings. Did Tolfdir ever manage to look over my journal?" S'maash asked.

"I don't know and I don't care," she replied callously.

"Hold on to those feelings and while you do, summon Tolfdir. I have another journal for him to look over," S'maash replied unaffected.

"I'll do no such thing," she said in return.

S'maash nodded to himself for a moment. Then he pulled the Daedric Heart Gem from inside his fur-lined blue robes. It beat with the sound of Farengar's soul. With an ephemeral _thump,_ it glowed.

"I think he'll want to see this," S'maash said.

Faralda was speechless. She simply stood, her mouth agape. Finally, she managed a heavy sigh.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Please summon Tolfdir," S'maash reiterated.

She nodded then made her way to the College. Moments later, and frozen to the bone, S'maash saw two figures come across the massive bridge. Another moment and he was in the company of Faralda and Tolfdir.

"My, my. That is something. Faralda said you brought it for me?" Tolfdir asked.

He looked upon S'maash slightly askew. He was a bit embarrassed as he had in fact read S'maash old journal. It was difficult to admit, for Tolfdir, that he had made a mistake. For the moment, the Daedric Heart Gem possessed all of his attention.

"Ahem! This is mine. This is for you," S'maash said, providing Tolfdir with the other journal.

"Ah, let's see. Mmhmm. Oh, he was a Psijic monk? Surprising, I thought only Altmer were Psijics… well. Yes, apologies are in order. S'maash, I've kept this to myself for a long time. I made a mistake and reacted poorly. I-," Tolfdir spoke.

S'maash raised a hand in protest.

"It's fine. Farengar told me Necromancy has become a problem. If not for your rash decision, I might not have found my way to him. At any rate, if you'd be so kind to re-induct me, I have to gather supplies for a ritual to summon Azura," S'maash explained.

"Yes, yes, of course, come with me. You can take Arniel's old room again. You know, after that awful misunderstanding, while we were cleaning that is, we found some interesting logbooks," Tolfdir said as he laughed shyly.

S'maash explained a few of his and Farengar's theories on their way to the Hall of Countenance. Upon walking into his old room, he sat on the bed's green linens before continuing.

"So naturally, I have to bring this to completion, for myself, Hermaeus Mora, and most of all, for Farengar who gave his life," S'maash explained.

"Yes. Any deal struck with a Daedric Prince is… well… permanent to say the least," Tolfdir agreed.

"I'm glad you understand. I need some Glow Dust as an offering right away. There's no time to stall," S'maash spoke with urgency.

"Mmhm. Yes, Faralda be a dear would you and grab our friend what he needs," Tolfdir ordered. "Now then, you plan to offer the Daedric Heart Gem to Azura, then I thought you said you would have to go to her plane of Oblivion but I must have misheard."

Tolfdir laughed shyly once more.

"Absolutely not. If she accepts my offering then I must continue into Oblivion. There is no alternative," S'maash said.

Tolfdir looked into S'maash's eyes. He had changed and quite a bit. He was no longer an eager student with some traveling experience. S'maash was a hardened and experienced traveler with a wealth of knowledge and potential.

"You remind me of the Dragonborn, so brash, a quick learner, so much potential, but always too busy. Mmm I fear your restless nature will not end well," Tolfdir commented.

Before S'maash answered, Faralda stepped into the room, Glow Dust in hand.

"Here it is," she said.

It was a glowing, green substance, like fine powder, contained in a small, clay bowl.

"Excellent. Then I am off to the Shrine of Azura," S'maash stated.

"If you are traveling into Oblivion you may want to prepare yourself," Tolfdir advised.

"I'm equipped quite well actually, though I could benefit from more food and potions…" S'maash replied.

"Of course, take what you need. It's the least I can do for expelling you and S'maash, I am sorry," Tolfdir spoke sincerely.

"I never held it against you," S'maash answered.

After the heartfelt conversation, S'maash gathered everything he needed for the trip then he was off. As soon as he stepped out into the courtyard, Brelyna and Zolara saw him. They both ran to see him.

"S'maash! I can scarcely believe it!" she said

"Truly, what brings you back to the College?" Zolara asked.

"The same thing that brought me here the first time old friends. And rest easy, Tolfdir had me reinstated," S'maash said as he touched their shoulders.

It was evident he was about to be off on a new journey.

"Off already? Where are you going?" Brelyna asked.

S'maash provided the quickest account possible. Pressed for time, he wanted only to move forward.

"Let us join you," Zolara offered.

"Into Oblivion? I don't think so…" S'maash protested.

"Hey, we're capable. I'm not just some Alchemist!" Zolara proclaimed.

"It's true, he's become quite the Conjuration master. And you are familiar with my abilities," Brelyna added.

There was no time for debate.

"Pack your things. In the meantime, I will enchant a few pieces of equipment for you both," S'maash accepted.

As they packed, S'maash quickly ran back to his room. There, he snatched a few Grand Soul Gems and went to work. In minutes, he crafted a necklace and ring for Brelyna, fortified with both Restoration and Alteration. For Zolara, he crafted two similar pieces. They were fortified with both Destruction and Conjuration. They reconvened in the courtyard before leaving.

"I'm so glad to be coming along for this ride," Zolara said.

Brelyna smiled at S'maash.

"We missed you. Most of us knew you were not guilty of Necromancy but Tolfdir, he…" Brelyna trailed off.

"No, it's fine. Thank you both. Let us be off then," S'maash said.

So the three departed. A long, winding walk took them out of Winterhold and through the mountainous region. During the journey, as they passed the gorgeous mountains, S'maash explained his need to summon Azura. It was not long before a Snowy Saber Cat stalked them.

While happily conversing about S'maash's work and their own, none of them noticed the meaty cat, skulking behind hills and large piles of snow. Upon reaching their proximity, the Snowy Saber Cat, a brutish tiger with massive tusks, took off at a full run, kicking up powdery snow. With a vicious growl, it pounced upon Zolara. He let out a painful cry. S'maash reacted quickly, tossing two Fire Balls at the beastly animal. It let off the injured Argonian. S'maash started overcharging Fire Balls while Brelyna slowly moved towards her friend. The beast growled softly as it lowered its head for another pounce.

S'maash waited patiently for the cat to go airborne. With a violent twitch of muscle, the cat closed the distance, taking a massive Fire Ball to the face. Though it was injured by the spell, it did not falter. Two enormous clawed paws took S'maash to the snow beneath. The snow was fresh and lightly packed causing him to become practically buried.

"Goodness!" Brelyna shouted.

She finished healing her friend rather quickly. When she turned to see what had happened to S'maash, she saw the cat shaking its head. It had S'maash by the leg. He screamed in pain while attempting to face the beast. Zolara wasted no time in conjuring a Storm Atronach. The glowing stone menace appeared from the plane of Oblivion. It set upon the cat with fists of stone as sparks of purple lightning shot from its magickal essence.

As the Atronach brought roughly hewn fists down upon the animal, S'maash blasted its face with repeated Fire Balls. Seconds later, the cat was little more than a snowy, white pelt.

"Are you alright?" Brelyna asked as she healed him.

"Yes, believe it or not I've had worse," he replied breathless.

After recovering, he decided it was more important to be vigil than discuss their previous excursions. Had it not been for that decision, the Frost Trolls in the distance, to their right, might have set upon them as well. They too were large in stock, as most of Skyrim's predators, white beasts out for flesh. S'maash pointed the Trolls out to his comrades. They nodded accordingly and pressed on in silence. After a few more moments, the Frost Trolls were swallowed up by the raging winds and snow. Their arrival at the Shrine of Azura was imminent. They saw the large statue high above them, a robed figure holding the Sun and the Moon.

"So what will you ask of her?" Brelyna inquired, quietly.

It grew increasingly difficult to keep footing. The snow was thick and very loosely packed. Between breaths S'maash answered.

"I will offer her the Daedric Heart Gem as a replacement for the Star of Azura to help her bind her power in this plane once more. Farengar believed she would accept. In return, I'll ask her to allow us into her plane, in order to receive something he called the Breath of Everlasting. It's supposed to set his soul free as well immortalize the Daedric Heart Gem. Essentially, it will be everlasting like her former Star," S'maash explained.

"What if she doesn't agree?" Zolara asked.

"I don't know… I'm just hoping it doesn't come to that," S'maash answered.

Before them were several stone steps, allowing a much easier climb to her shrine. Soon, they stood in front of the massive statue. S'maash took the Glow Dust from his pack and placed it on her alter.

"Lady Azura! I call you before me! Please show yourself in this plane! I, S'maash Ilteriel, must speak with you!" S'maash called out into the blizzard.

It sounded as though the whipping winds whisked his voice away. They braced themselves, waiting. Moments passed.

"I don't think it worked!" Zolara yelled.

He had to yell. The winds grew more and more powerful. From one direction then another, the winds nearly knocked them over. Brelyna took a seat to keep from falling. S'maash and Zolara fought to keep their balance.

"Azura!" S'maash yelled again.

A violent wind from behind sent him stumbling forward and the sound of clay smashing, assaulted his ears. Soon the winds subsided. The offering had been smashed. Glow Dust covered the bottom-most portion of the statue. A voice accosted them.

"What is the meaning of this summons? I am Azura, Lady of Dusk and Dawn. You, Dark Elf, you have called me here," The voice rang throughout the night sky as did the winds, seconds before.

"I did my Lady! I come with an offering to tie you into our plane. I have forged a new gem for you. Behold, the Daedric Heart Gem," S'maash said, holding the sinister heart above his head.

He felt its pulsations, the essence of Farengar. There was no answer. Silence prevailed for a moment. The beating of the Daedric Heart Gem grew louder and louder until it echoed over the Shrine of Azura.

"A new vessel? Why do you offer it to me Dunmer?" she asked.

"My Lady, I've been made aware of the fate which befell your Star of Azura. This is a replacement, but it is weak, forged by man and mer, not a Daedric Lord such as yourself. I bestow it upon you to restore your power to this plane but I require the Breath of Everlasting. Will you allow us to journey into the plane Moonshadow? Will you allow me to be the caretaker of your vessel?" S'maash asked.

"Yes!" she replied. "From the days of old when I cursed the Chimer, I had faith that my children would be so kind as to restore their benefactor, should she ever need it. Yes S'maash Ilteriel. Come, come and bask in the shadow of moons."

A flash of blue light momentarily blinded the three comrades. When they opened their eyes, a blue tombstone shaped door sat before them. It wavered hauntingly, revealing a glimpse to the world of Azura. S'maash took a step forward. Still from a sitting position, Brelyna reached out and grabbed his ankle. He turned to look down in confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked in disbelief.

"What do you mean? She granted us passage!" S'maash replied.

"You can't go in there! It's a nonsensical world of dreams and such. You can only travel spiritually," she said.

S'maash looked to the giant statue. It was silent.

"No. I'm going in. both of you are welcome to stay behind," S'maash answered.

"I'm up for the challenge," Zolara chimed in.

Brelyna stood and looked them both over.

"You're crazy, both of you… you can't…" she looked away.

S'maash took her shoulders in his hands and brought her close.

"Listen to me, we'll be fine. She granted us passage. No one said it would be safe. I have to try this. Come with me," he said, with a deep gaze into her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered.

S'maash looked back to Zolara. He picked some ice of his horns and shrugged. S'maash nodded, gave Brelyna one last look, took her by the hand, and walked through the blue door. Zolara was the last to step in.

**Chapter Fourteen Moonshadow**

Vertigo overtook S'maash and the others. For a moment, there was only blackness. They awoke in a dream. S'maash was the first to rise. He saw his comrades lying on the ground, only it was not the ground as he was accustomed to it.

"What is this?" he asked in a daze.

His voice echoed, drawing his attention to the wonderful world of Moonshadow. As the others rose, S'maash took in the sight. The ground was an endless ocean of crystal, blue, twinkling. The sky was a swirling pool of all the brightest colors. He could barely breathe from the impact of gorgeousness. In the distance, massive trees carved from sapphire, rose to touch the heavens. The more he observed, the less he could see. He had to look in small spurts, constantly moving his eyes.

Brelyna approached him and took his arm. In turn, Zolara, who could not bear the beauty, screamed.

"I can't see… I, I mustn't keep my eyes open!" he yelled in desperation.

His voice echoed out into eternity.

"Calm yourself Argonian! You must look briefly. Do not fix your gaze," S'maash ordered.

"All, alright. I will try," Zolara replied.

After regaining his composure, Zolara took Brelyna's hand. The three walked together towards a light. It was difficult to understand what anything was. The entire realm had a wavering mist about it, like too much heat off a forge.

"Where are you taking us?" Brelyna asked.

"I don't know," S'maash replied.

He stopped for a moment to look around. Crystalline mountains lay in the distance. A sudden scent assaulted their nostrils, cinnamon. S'maash felt a presence. It was Farengar. The Daedric Heart Gem had gone missing.

"Wait. Where is my gem?" S'maash asked.

"Did it not appear with you?" Zolara asked.

S'maash looked back from where they had arrived. A sudden pang of fear jolted him. The scenery was different. A magnificent waterfall, reflecting all the colors of the sky, replaced whatever had been there. Then Farengar's presence was felt once more. It pulled him back to the light in the distance, a watery colored glow.

"Farengar… I feel him," S'maash whispered.

He ran towards the light, jostling the others behind him. After stumbling, they recovered and gave chase. An oddity they all welcomed was the lack of fatigue. They ran for hours. A palace of silver grew in the distance. It's light emanated as though holding the sky and the ground apart in an eternal struggle.

Upon reaching the Palace of Azura, they beheld a most wondrous image. The palace was built with spiraling towers of silver, swaying arches of silver, and two of the largest silver doors they had ever laid eyes upon. The whole of the palace was reminiscent of roses and cherry trees. S'maash saw no handle upon the door. From his vantage point, he assumed they must have been over one hundred feet high. Soon, the others caught up to him.

"How do we get in?" Brelyna asked.

S'maash did not reply. Instead, he dropped to his knees in tears. It was too beautiful. Brelyna tried to comfort him. Zolara was next to fall. Finally Brelyna fell too. The melodic cinnamon winds caressed them under the heavenly sky. Nonexistent wind chimes tinkled upon the caressing winds. Images of rose petals, soft clouds, and waterfalls burned behind their minds' eye. Scents of the sweetest fruits swirled about them. Their souls were melting away into Oblivion.

"S'maash," a voice whispered.

S'maash recognized it immediately. _Those strange S's._

"Stop wasting time. Enter," Farengar's voice echoed.

S'maash threw his eyes open. With a deep breath, he stood. The doors opened. He looked down to the others and helped them to their feet. Once they had regained their composure, they walked beyond the silver door. Perfectly aligned silver squares lay upon the crystal ground. Sapphire trees cast dancing shadows upon the group. It was difficult to tread but a woman welcomed them in her majestic courtyard.

"Greetings S'maash Ilteriel," Azura said.

Her voice was rose petals, pink, soft, perfect like satin lace. None of them could speak. She then produced the Daedric Heart Gem.

"What will you do now?" she asked.

"What do you wish me to do?" S'maash asked in return.

"You have done much by reinstating my power into your plane. I have passed on the Breath of Everlasting and name you my champion. You will bear this title and my Daedric Heart Gem," she proclaimed.

S'maash simply dropped to his knees. He did not see what the others were doing. He dare not look around for more than a moment. Azura's visage was not meant to be gazed upon by mortals.

"Where is Farengar? I heard his voice rally my spirit," S'maash said.

"He is gone now. Hermaeus Mora owns him. Hermaeus Mora wants you as well but you are my champion now. Go. Return to your plane and finish your quest my child. Go," Azura sang.

A violent sinking feeling brought S'maash flat onto his belly. He gasped and looked around. He was in Skyrim, at the Shrine of Azura. They all were. Before his face was the Daedric Heart Gem. With no soul inside, it no longer glowed. S'maash stood. A cold wind blew over him. He helped the others to their feet. It was morning and the sun came over the horizon to burn the clouds with orange light. Sunrays broke the drabness of early morning.

"Everyone alright?" he asked.

"Fine," Zolara answered.

"Yes, thank you," Brelyna answered.

"Back to the College then…" S'maash trailed off.

The three made the slow climb down the steps from Azura's statue. They were all so overwhelmed by the sudden experience no words or thoughts accosted their minds. Like a dream, the previous experiences slowly ebbed away, though they would never be forgotten. At the bottom, a Wretched Abyss approached them.

"By the Gods! What is that?" Brelyna screamed in terror.

As Zolara tried to keep her from falling backwards, S'maash approached it.

"Good S'maash," the deep voice started. "Now you must finish this."

"What am I finishing? I still don't understand," S'maash complained.

"You will go to Nchuand-Zel. Far beyond the end of the halls, you will find a fragment of the Heart of Lorkhan. Hurry S'maash. Time is of the essence," Hermaeus Mora spoke and vanished.

"By the Nine! Did I hear what I think I heard?" Zolara asked, shocked.

S'maash turned to face him. He nodded his head accordingly.

"Well I have to come along for this," Zolara said, matter-of-factly.

He returned Brelyna to her feet. She in turn gave a full-bodied shrug.

"What?" S'maash asked.

"You're just going? Just like that?" she asked.

"Is there a better way?" S'maash asked.

"Well, I don't know. I mean…" she looked away shyly.

"I am. Just like that, I am going," Zolara added.

S'maash pointed at him as he kept his eyes on Brelyna.

"See, he's excited," S'maash said with a smile.

His smile was contagious. Brelyna smile then giggled. They made their way back to Winterhold. A long, arduous journey ensued for hours. While trudging along, they discussed the implications.

"Azura chose you as champion. Why are continuing to quest for Hermaeus Mora?" Brelyna inquired.

"It's difficult to answer… I have no intention of subverting Azura's designs for me but I cannot shun from Hermaeus Mora either. I fear his power. He's already threatened to swallow me into his Wretched Abyss," S'maash replied.

"Here I thought you were just trying to advance the school of Enchanting. Suddenly you're looking for Lorkhan's Heart? I thought it was in Vverdenfell," Zolara added.

S'maash shrugged. He was aware of the Nerevarine's quest to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan and end Dagoth Ur's tyranny but after completion of his quest it was unknown what transpired.

"If Hermaeus Mora says it's in Nchuand-Zel then that's where it is… Speaking of which, what is Nchuand-Zel?" S'maash asked.

"The Dwemer ruin beneath Markarth, over in the Reach. Its Skyrim's western hold," Brelyna replied.

"Tell me more," S'maash said.

They continued their journey over Skyrim's grand mountains as a light snow sprinkled from dissipating clouds.

**Chapter Fifteen The City of Stone**

"Markarth was built upon the Dwemer City of Nchuand-Zel," Brelyna stated.

"I am unfamiliar with a great deal of Skyrim including Markarth," S'maash said.

"It has a very colorful history. From the Forsworn attacks to the Silver-Bloods taking over after Ulfrich's uprising, this city seems to be under perpetual change. Yet, inside the walls of stone, the people remain unchanged. A most perplexing place…" Brelyna commented.

"With Cidhna mine, to boot," Zolara added.

"What's with the mine?" S'maash asked.

"It's where they send prisoners to mine silver. They mine to serve out their sentence," Brelyna answered.

"It's hard to imagine the Nords built a long standing society over Dwemer ruins," S'maash said.

"The Nords are a surprisingly resilient people," Brelyna countered.

"They have to be to survive these frozen lands," Zolara remarked.

The Dark Elves detected a negative connotation but held their tongues as they looked upon Zolara. He shrugged in reply.

"So how do we get into Nchuand-Zel?" S'maash asked.

"Follow me," Brelyna said and took the lead.

As they entered Markarth proper, S'maash was awe struck by the stonework. All the buildings were clearly of Dwemer of design. He assumed the city itself was Nchuand-Zel. For a second he stood lost in amazement.

Brelyna walked around the Silver-Blood Inn to the backside of Markarth. S'maash followed her and noted the beautiful cascade of water. The sound of Smithing prevailed. Steel smashing steel rang against the stone city. Brelyna proceeded up the steps, towards Understone Keep. The evening sun was setting, casting an orange radiance over Markarth.

S'maash recognized the Dwemer doors adorning all the buildings. Seeing so many people milling about a Dwemer City was an odd sight to behold. Then Brelyna approached a guard standing watch. He wore the same fur-lined, quilted armor as most of Skyrim's guard, his face masked by the full helmet.

"I used to be an adventurer like you. Then I took an arrow in the knee," the guard said.

"Sorry to hear that… we're just seeking entry to Understone Keep," Brelyna said.

"Sure, sure, go right in but be mindful in front of the Jarl," The guard replied.

The three travelers entered the ancient keep. A familiar sound pulsated, Dwemer steam machinery. S'maash gazed at the statues, Dwarven Spheres, and a massive Automaton he did not recognize. Brelyna had moved off to the left of the keep, towards some rubble. He followed behind her. She stopped inside a massive chamber where a man was conducting some experiments with Dwemer Automatons.

"Greetings Aicantar," Brelyna said.

The man turned with a smile, revealing he was an Altmer in purple robes.

"Ah Brelyna, you've brought guests?" he asked wiping his hands.

"So to speak… we need access to Nchuand-Zel," she said.

Aicantar furrowed his as he looked over S'maash and Zolara.

"You're researching the Dwemer too?" he asked.

"No. We're here for the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash interjected.

Aicantar laughed as though it was the funniest joke he'd heard in years. Slowly his laughter gave way. S'maash held a questioning gaze upon the Altmer's face.

"You're serious? Well that's preposterous. Lorkhan's Heart isn't here. It, it, it isn't anywhere," He replied in disbelief.

"Hermaeus Mora sent us," Brelyna said gravely.

"Truly?" Aicantar asked.

"He said something about it being beyond a hall," S'maash added.

"Hmm. I don't know what that means. You're certain he said it was in Nchuand-Zel?" Aicantar asked.

"Hard to confuse that name with any other don't you think?" Zolara asked.

"Well… Look, it's dangerous in there. Automatons still roam the halls. Then there's those blasted Falmer. I can't figure out where they're coming from…" Aicantar said as he paced.

He had obviously forgotten he was in the company of others, a feature his uncle possessed, before his passing.

"Aicantar," S'maash called.

"What? Oh yes…" he said.

"If you don't know where the Falmer are coming from, you have not explored every area of Nchuand-Zel. So it is logical the Heart of Lorkhan is in there, somewhere," S'maash stated.

"I suppose that's a valid point," he said making eye contact with everyone. "Listen, if you get hurt in there it'll be on my head. Here's the key to enter but please, be extra careful."

"Of course. Thank you Aicantar," Brelyna answered.

"Oh, before I forget, the Dragonborn came through here, many years ago. He helped my uncle reactivate the automated defenses so… just be cautious," Aicantar added.

"Understood. Thank you," S'maash replied.

They proceeded through Aicantar's chamber to what looked like a fresh excavation site, except for the cobwebs. It was obvious that once the entrance had been located, no one cared enough to clean up after themselves. The brown, rocky tunnel led into a well preserved Dwemer ruin, Nchuand-Zel. The Dwemer double doors possessed an ominous air.

"Alright," S'maash said, taking the key from Brelyna.

He unlocked the doors, revealing more excavation and more webs, spiders' webs.

"Hmm I hear something in the distance," Zolara commented.

"Frostbite Spiders," Brelyna answered.

S'maash shuddered at the thought. He heard it as well, the scurrying sound of hairy legs crawling about. After continuing forward, through some narrow tunnels, they came across Egg Sacs and their guardians. The three travelers easily dispatched a handful of spiders with various Destruction spells. A few gleaming swirls of Frost Storm, purple flashes of Chain Lightning, and the orange blazes of Fire Bolts. Zolara stood over one charred carcass.

"Maybe I'll summon a little help," he said.

The Dark Elves eyed him as he conjured a Flame Atronach. Once summoned, the fiery demon skated about the group. They continued to walk down some shoddy, wooden bridges to the entrance proper. Upon opening the door, a malevolent-looking gray creature hissed.

"Falmer!" Brelyna cried out.

The wiry creature possessed a light, gray, skin overly stretched across knotted muscles. It wielded a chitinous sword and shield. Falmer features were horrific. While they appeared Elven, with their long, pointed ears, their eyes were strange, tiny and greenish. Long nostrils lied flat to their faces as they lacked a nose. Falmer were a twisted rendition of a once prestigious people, Snow Elves. Now blind, after years of subterranean living, they sought only destruction of surface dwellers.

The Flame Atronach took point, blasting at the Falmer with repeated Fire Balls. S'maash and friends threw up their Iron Flesh spells in defense as they observed the wiry creature battle Zolara's summoned beast. The Falmer, with sword and shield, hissed as it swung, wildly. A dance of blaze unfolded before the group. While the Falmer was an agile warrior, it was no match for the Atronach. A few Fire Balls exploded against the skinny, gray, body. It fell, tumbling over the edge of the platform they all stood upon.

Zolara peeked precariously over the edge. He waved goodbye to the fallen Snow Elf. Then he addressed the others.

"It's a long way down. All I see is shingled rooves and misty water beneath. Where exactly are we going?" he asked.

"Forward…" S'maash replied.

"Good to know," Zolara replied, sarcastically.

They walked across the platform, a stone bridge of sorts. It was difficult to comprehend how the Dwemer had built pathways to the individual pavilions. Carefully, the group approached the first pavilion-like structure, built into the framework of Nchuand-Zel. As they pressed on, they noted many of the same structures ran throughout the massive ruin. There was no reasonable way to determine the proper path, so they simply continued walking from platform to pavilion and so on. A stale air hung in the chamber. The scent of death wafted about. Soon, they came to the last pavilion.

There were a few Dwemer benches and a fence protecting some pipes and gears. Two paths lied before them.

"The door or the walkway down?" Brelyna asked.

S'maash took a deep breath in an attempt to reason out a decision.

"We might as well take the door. If I know Dwemer ruins, we'll have to proceed through a few areas, slowly working our way down," he commented.

"Been through many have we?" Zolara asked.

"Just Damlzthur," S'maash replied.

So through the large doors they went, into the War Quarters. Upon opening the large doors, they spotted a few deceased Falmer. Weapons were scattered about, chitinous creations. As they meandered about the stony hallways and many steps they saw rubble, machinery, gates, and several pieces of broken Automatons. A great battle had taken place at some point. The whining sound of gears and steam prevailed.

"Look at all these gears churning in the ground. I can hardly believe these contraptions still function," Zolara commented.

Many twisting corridors led up stairs then down stairs then around corners. S'maash began blinking a bit erratically as he tried to keep a mental note of where they were going. Large, brass barrels jutted from the walls as steam billowed out.

"What is this?" Brelyna asked.

Amidst a series of fences, built as partitions, was a strange tree. It sat in ancient soil. The three gazed at it for a moment. It was an unremarkable, brown tree, but the only tree any of them had seen inside a Dwemer ruin.

"It's just a tree," Zolara said, breaking the silence.

S'maash nodded. They moved around the fences to a hallway with several rooms. All the rooms were adorned with stone beds, gas lamps, desks, and Dwarven Metal chairs. Then the familiar sound of Automatons moving through the walls rang throughout the chamber.

"Here we go. Brace yourselves," S'maash announced.

The steel _clinked_ and clamored.

"What is it?" Brelyna asked.

"The defenses I presume," S'maash answered.

As they threw up their own magickal defenses, a Dwarven Spider entered the room, its little crab arms flailed about, wildly. The agility with which the massively heavy chunk of Dwarven Metal moved was overwhelming. It was, at that precise moment, that Zolara's summoned Atronach crashed, the conjuration period has expired and it returned to Oblivion.

"Blast," he said flatly.

The Dwarven Spider hopped about with eight, brass-like legs crashing into Brelyna, who staggered back from the impact more than injury. As she cried out, she blasted it with Sparks from both hands. Zolara, deciding physical damage was more appropriate, summoned a Bound Sword. As he hacked away with a blade of wavering, purple, magicka and Brelyna sprayed magickal lightning, S'maash fired his own Ice Spikes. The Dwarven Spider hopped in the air, crashing into Zolara's chin. He fell to the ground with the Automaton on his chest. It lied motionless, broken, and covered with frost.

"A little assistance please?" Zolara asked.

The enemy's weight kept him pinned, so the Dark Elves worked quickly to pull it off their friend. He stood and brushed himself off.

"Well…" Zolara sighed.

S'maash turned back towards the direction of the hallway. The others followed behind him as he proceeded. The circular fashion with which the War Quarters was built became disorienting. S'maash opted to constantly stay to the right. Soon after, they reached a set of doors.

"Ah," S'maash said in triumph.

He pushed them open, revealing a ledge and an empty Dwemer chest. Below was the same view they had seen when they fought the Falmer, rooves and water.

"Excellent. The quickest way down," Zolara said.

"You're not helping," Brelyna chastised him.

"I'm not trying to. I'm entertaining," he replied.

"You're awful," S'maash added.

So they turned back, passing by more rooms with more beds, chairs, and desks. After walking over more rubble and bits of Dwemer Scrap Metal, they finally came back to the strange tree. Zolara opened his mouth but quickly shut it after a dirty look from S'maash. Brelyna snickered.

"Perhaps we should go back and take that stone bridge down," she suggested.

S'maash nodded. After returning to the initial chamber, they backtracked a few dozen paces to the closest pavilion. There, they took the winding stone bridge to a lower level, crossed another platform, passed more brass-like fences, and finally stood before the misty water. Old debris was visible under the surface of the water. S'maash wondered how deep Nchuand-Zel went.

"There's a door across the way," Brelyna said, pointing.

"Aye," Zolara said.

The Argonian wasted no time. He took off all his clothes and put them in his travel pack. Then he looked back at the other two. They had a look of disbelief painted across their faces.

"What?" Zolara asked.

"Nothing," S'maash replied.

He stripped down as well but kept his subregalia around his waist. To everyone's surprise, S'maash was rather well built. Brelyna followed suit, her trim figure glistened with the light from the gas lamps above. S'maash and Zolara exchanged glances then looked back to Brelyna.

"Grow up," she snapped.

Truthfully, she had not minded being momentarily ogled. It was a small boost of confidence.

"Well, I'll go first," Zolara announced.

He hopped, head first, into the water, travel pack upon his shoulders. He swam faster than either of the Elves imagined. He even managed to keep his pack dry.

"Hey Zolara! Come back and grab our packs too. We can't swim like that, they'll get wet," S'maash called out.

"Certainly," Zolara replied.

Two more times, Zolara made the trip. On the third, the others joined him. Once everyone was by the new entrance, they spent a few moments re-donning their gear. Then they pushed the Dwemer doors open. Into the Armory they went.

As with the previous section, machinery jutted from every corner, floor, and abutment, the scent of Dwarven Oil in the air. While the massive stone hallways lacked separate rooms, there were several alcoves with emptied chests. Every time they spotted one, Zolara ran over to it then shook his head in dismay.

"I can't believe it's been picked completely clean. All I've seen thus far is Dwemer metal and ruined books," S'maash commented.

"It's that damn Dragonborn. He must've taken it all," Zolara said.

"Or, more likely, the Falmer," Brelyna replied.

S'maash nodded. They continued around another bend. It revealed a massive set of stairs leading down. Then they reached a wall. To the right were steps leading back up. After taking turns sighing, they found themselves at a fork. The path ended before them with a series of Dwarven Metal bars, spanning a long ways to the left and right. A way around was visible from either side. S'maash shrugged and went to the right, turned left at a corner, then heard a racket coming from down the hall. They all stopped.

The hissing of Falmer resonated followed by the empty, flat, clamor of Dwemer machinery. The group glanced at one another. Once more, they prepared for the fight. They threw up protection spells. Zolara summoned a Flame Atronach and a Bound Sword. S'maash brought a frozen mist to both hands. Brelyna brought Sparks to one and a Healing spell to the other. S'maash nodded to the group. They proceeded cautiously.

The closer they came to the battle, the more machinery was heard clunking about. Less and less Falmer hissing bled through the walls. Upon rounding the last corner, to their right, they saw why. A Dwarven Centurian Master had crushed several Falmer. Prominently, it stood guard before a set of doors. The massive Dwemer Automaton was a sight to behold. Built from the brass-like Dwarven Metal, it glistened, Falmer blood dripping from its mechanical arms. The Centurion Master possessed a sword-like arm and a maul-like arm, the heavy metal structure appeared indestructible. The group stared at it. S'maash narrowed his eyes at the spinning gears, built into the machine's joints.

The Flame Atronach rushed at the machine with dual Fire Bolts. The Centurion met the Atronach in the tight hallway. With one hammer and one blade, the Dwemer machine swung, dealing severe damage to the Atronach. Zolara looked at his Bound Sword and decided the constant summoning of Atronachs might be safer. Brelyna looked to S'maash, who was undaunted.

He did not care that the machine stood brazenly in his way. He flung a series of Ice Spikes around the Atronach. Though its movement was graceful, it was also erratic. Some of the Ice Spikes impacted upon the Atronach. Then an overhead smash from the Centurion's mighty hammer destroyed it. While Zolara summoned once more, the Centurion came closer, metal boots stomping down the hallway.

"Zolara, Brelyna, listen to me. We have to fight as one. I need you to be brave, summon your Bound Sword and get behind it. Brelyna and I will do our best to keep it slowed with Frostbite. Worse comes to worse, we can all keep a Healing spell equipped. Let's go!" S'maash ordered.

Zolara looked to Brelyna and shrugged. They followed their orders. It was difficult at first. The Centurion Master was so large, Zolara could not find a way around. While the Atronach kept it busy with Fire Bolts, the Argonian decided to slide beneath the machine's legs. Once safely on its backside, the Dark Elves stood on opposite sides of the Atronach, palms outwards, raining a frozen terror upon the machine's front.

It took mere seconds for the Centurion's gears to freeze over. That alone would have been enough to keep it slowed but it released an immense burst of steam. The surprise attack caught Zolara in mid swing, killed the second Atronach, and broke the concentration of the others.

"It's too powerful!" Zolara complained.

"Just hold strong!" S'maash ordered.

They readopted the three-pronged attack. Again the Centurion broke their strategy by knocking S'maash against the wall with its sword arm and Brelyna against the other wall with its hammer arm. Zolara witnessed both Elves flying like rag dolls and considered running. Instead, he summoned another Atronach, ran a few steps back, summoned a Bound Bow, and fired purple arrows at the mechanical menace.

"This ends now," Zolara yelled.

The brute had quite a bit of difficulty maneuvering in the tight hallway but it did manage to slowly turn itself and face the Argonian. As it approached, the machine beat its weaponized arms against the walls. Zolara faltered for a moment. In that time, both the Elves had healed themselves. It was their turn to be on the machine's rear. With dual, Dual Ice Spikes, they froze it over, once more.

The Flame Atronach skated over to its opponent, fiery hand raised. It danced and swirled leaving a wake of flames followed by several Fire Balls, which went everywhere. Most impacted on the Dwarven Automaton while a few errant ones simply exploded upon impact with the walls. In response, the Centurion ground some gears, let off some steam, and charged with swinging arms at the Atronach. With it destroyed, only Zolara stood before it.

"Help?" Zolara asked.

He had run back as far as the area allowed. His tail was at the double doors.

"Just open the doors!" Brelyna yelled.

While the Elves maintained their cold fury upon the Centurion, the Argonian did open the doors. On the other side were two Dwarven Spheres, crossbows and swords at the ready.

"Oh! Yes! Open the doooooors!" Zolara yelled.

He no longer cared about the situation and took off to areas unseen by the Elves. The Centurion, slow and relentless, let off more steam as it turned to face the Elves. A monotonous drone echoed when it swung sideways at Brelyna, who ducked in the knick of time. S'maash switched to a Bound Sword in his right hand while switching to Icy Spear with the other. He fired one spear into the Automaton's hip gears then ran in low to slide beneath it. There, he jammed the Bound Sword into the area just under the machine's back. As it flailed its arms, Brelyna held firm with her Ice Spikes. Seconds later, the gears sparked and jammed causing the Centurion to wobble.

It fell hard against the wall then started to slide towards S'maash, who did not wish to be pinned underneath. He back peddled a few steps, leaving the Bound Sword, which naturally vanished. To end the fight, he readied Snow Storm. A few blasts of the icy tornadoes were sufficient. S'maash looked to Brelyna.

"Where did he go?" she asked.

S'maash just shook his head. Where ever Zolara had gone, the Spheres had followed. The Elves entered the Control Room, a place even more riddled with gears and levers. Before taking full stock of the room, they heard Zolara scream. He ran across a hallway, positioned a few dozen paces further in, and was on fire. It was the evident result of a trap, not an Automaton attack. Directly behind him, two Dwarven Spheres gave chase.

S'maash and Brelyna ran to the hall, took their right, and followed the Spheres. A couple of Snow Storms, Sparks, and a Flame Atronach made short work of the enemies. Zolara stood before the wreckage. He kicked a Large Dwemer Plate then hopped about as he had hurt his own foot.

"I can't believe you just left us!" Brelyna yelled in disbelief.

"I didn't, I didn't just leave you… I… uh, led the enemy away, so we wouldn't be overwhelmed," he countered.

"I don't believe you," she replied.

"Well, just be glad that, thanks to me, you're alive enough to be able to not believe me," Zolara retorted.

"Let's just take a break," S'maash ordered.

**Chapter Sixteen The Secret of Nchuand-Zel**

An exhausting expedition throughout the confusing ruins of Nchuand-Zel brought the group to a break for a few hours. Consumption of food and water left them in better spirits. Afterwards, they proceeded through the Control Room. Apart from more machinery and a few Dwemer Spiders, there wasn't much else. Eventually, they found themselves on an overlook, just outside the Control Room. They had essentially gone full circle, back to a section of Nchuand-Zel mid way up from the water. S'maash gave a shrug in desperation.

"We're going in circles here," Brelyna commented.

"Yes… Hermaeus Mora said we had to go beyond the end but if it's a circle where would that be?" S'maash asked.

Zolara spit over the edge. His trickle of saliva fell a few dozen feet before echoing against the water below. Concentric rings ebbed away from the droplet.

"Maybe, the end is below us." he suggested.

Brelyna and S'maash locked eyes.

"That's brilliant," she said.

"Well, glad to have you back on my side," Zolara remarked.

"Looks like it's up to you, Argonian," S'maash said.

Zolara looked about in mock confusion.

"What's up to me?" he asked.

"Go underwater and see if there's a sunken passage," S'maash stated.

Zolara grumbled.

"It's the only option," Brelyna said.

"Only option? You, the College's instructor of Alteration, do not possess a Water Breathing Spell? And you, you don't have an amulet you enchanted?" Zolara asked, accusingly.

"No Sir," S'maash answered dryly.

"I do have a Water Breathing Spell but they wear off. It will be simpler for you to take your time and search. What are you worried about anyway?" Brelyna asked.

"Nothing… I'll do it," Zolara gave in.

Several minutes later, they worked their way back through the Control Room and the Armory. Upon reaching the bottom-most area, Zolara stripped nude again. He cracked his neck then hopped in. He vanished immediately, barely breaking the water's smooth surface. After a few seconds, the Elves briefly saw his green tail poke out. It quickly receded. For a few more moments there was nothing. The water resumed its lifeless lack of motion.

"You think he'll be alright?" S'maash asked.

"He's quite capable, at least in class… Why the antics is beyond me," Brelyna answered.

For a while longer they continued conversations. Discussing what had transpired during their time apart was the most logical topic. Brelyna had focused on teaching but was glad to hear all about S'maash's errands for Farengar. Zolara's head sticking out of the water interrupted their conversation.

"Hey!" he called out.

"Yes?" S'maash stood as he asked.

"I might have found something but I can't move the rubble out of the way on my own," he answered.

"Right. I'll cast Water Breathing on us," Brelyna said to S'maash.

"We'll provide assistance in a moment," S'maash told Zolara.

After the spell was cast, the Elves joined the Argonian. Beneath the water's surface was a fallen stone pillar. Zolara led them beyond it. There was in fact a hallway beneath the sunken rubble. At the end of the hallway was more rubble. Zolara pointed to it. While it was difficult to see underwater, as not much light reached so far down, the rubble did appear to be blocking a passage. Working in unison, the three were able to move several large rocks, revealing more of the hallway.

As they proceeded, the Elves grew concerned with the possibility of their spell wearing off. A few more seconds passed when they began swimming on a noticeable incline. Less than a minute later, they poked their heads through the water into a darkened area. S'maash cast Candle Light, revealing more Dwemer stone work. Nchuand-Zel had more stories to tell than even Aicantar knew.

"I suppose it makes sense," S'maash said putting on his clothes.

"What does?" Zolara asked.

"Well, there must be other hidden chambers. Where else could the Falmer be coming from?" S'maash asked.

"Fair point," Brelyna said as she finished dressing.

The stone hallway led to a juncture, a crossroads under Nchuand-Zel. S'maash bared left. Their steps echoed loudly, except S'maash's, in the unexplored portion of the ruin. No machinery was seen along the way. A feint light appeared in the distance. Slowly, the team approached. As they drew closer, it became evident the source was a Dwemer gas lamp. The light shone into the hall from a room beyond.

Inside the room were stone beds arranged in a circular fashion, the lamp hung above, in the center. Each bed had a chest at the foot. Zolara rubbed clawed hands together. To his dismay, most were locked but he was not unprepared.

"You can pick these?" S'maash asked.

"Of course! Oh," Zolara said while breaking a pick almost immediately. "Well, this one appears to have a master level lock installed. No matter. I shall approach the next one."

He managed to pick three chests and two were not locked. The contents revealed pieces of Dwarven equipment. They decided to arm themselves. Brelyna took a Dwarven Dagger of Scorching, Zolara took a Dwarven Sword of Arching, and S'maash took a Dwarven bow of Dismay. He also found a handful of arrows. Their new equipment added magickal damage in the capacity of fire, shock, and fear.

Various other rings and necklaces were in the mix as well. Dwemer coins, brightly colored potions, reagents, and some books also lined the chests. S'maash was surprised to see books in the original Dwemer script. While he could not make sense of them, he figured Aicantar might be interested.

"Won't you put some clothes on?" Brelyna finally asked.

Zolara shrugged in resignation.

"Looks like this trip was worth it," Zolara added, optimistically.

"Not until I find this fragment of the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash retorted.

Brelyna placed a hand on his shoulder. After backtracking to the crossroads, S'maash continued straight. That hall ended rather abruptly, as it had caved in, leaving only the one, unexplored path. Once they returned to it, S'maash recast Candle Light and off they went down a long, undulating corridor. A long journey, with no end in sight, ensued. A break in Dwemer stone work began to give way. In its place was natural brown rock. The ruin's halls were little more than an excavation site then. Zolara stopped.

"Chaurus Egg Sacs?" he asked.

S'maash walked back to his position, the Candle Light revealing the truth. There were Chaurus Egg Sacs. Slime covered white, speckled eggs.

"That means Chaurus," Zolara said.

"That means more Falmer. I think you were right. They must be coming from here," Brelyna said.

"We need to be extremely cautious then. If this is where they reside, we might be in for a serious battle," S'maash stated.

They were in agreement. _I hope this stupid light spell doesn't give us away but I'd hate to step on a trap,_ he thought. His pace grew increasingly slow. Moments later, he saw more and more Egg Sacs. A scuttling sound echoed in the distance. Suddenly, his spell vanished. He waited a moment, just listening, before casting it again. The momentary pause allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness. There was some light further ahead but it seemed to be around a corner. He moved forward.

"S'maash," Brelyna whispered.

"Yes?" He asked.

"I can't hear your steps. Are you moving forward?" she asked.

It had slipped his mind. His boots were enchanted.

"Yes, sneak forward. I see light," he replied.

Zolara had no problem. While it was unbeknownst to the others, his Sneaking skills were impressive. His parents, who were born in Black Marsh, had taught him well. Brelyna was the only one to make noise, albeit little. Shortly there after, they all met at a rocky wall, curving off to the left. Across the way were Glowing Mushrooms, grown out of the walls. The gray, light producing reagents were everywhere.

S'maash looked at his comrades. Once eye contact was established, he pointed to the right. Caged Chaurus were scurrying about their modest living quarters. The large insects appeared formidable with their armored scutes and malevolent mandibles. Chaurus moved about on several legs, their dark carapace reflecting the glow of mushrooms. A Falmer was spotted in the distance. S'maash wondered how effective Sneaking truly was. Falmer smelled their prey after all. Muffled steps were not enough to sneak by undetected. S'maash had an idea.

"Stay here," he whispered.

Excruciatingly slow, he moved to retrieve Glowing Mushrooms. He returned with a handful.

"We rub them on our bodies to mask our scent," he instructed.

The three did so then pressed forward. S'maash's idea did well to hide their presence. It was not long before they found themselves on a rocky overhang. Below them was an ominous sight, a circle of Falmer dancing around a strange object. The only light shone from a massive Glowing Mushroom above them, on the far end of the cavern. A pang impacted throughout S'maash's insides. He knew full well it was the fragment of Lorkhan's Heart. He also knew there was no easy way to get it.

"Ideas?" he asked.

"Suppose we build this large, stone badger…" Zolara whispered.

The Elves gave him a death glare. Zolara quieted as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Zolara, from how far can you summon an Atronach?" S'maash asked.

"Quite," he replied.

S'maash reasoned that if the Falmer ran off to battle an Atronach, he could snatch the object and return, relatively undetected. He peered down. It was evident a drop down from his position was easy but the return route took him far to his right. He believed that an Atronach conjured to the far left side of the room below was the best option. He passed the suggestion on to his friends.

Zolara stretched out his arms. He then gave S'maash a nod. Soon as Zolara started the summons, S'maash dropped the moderate distance. A Flame Atronach appeared at the same time S'maash's feet hit he ground. The sudden appearance of an enemy sparked the predicted reaction. Outraged Falmer attacked the creature on scent. Unfortunately, the Atronach was unfit to handle so many Falmer. The crashing of chitinous weapons defeated the flame harlot in little time. S'maash stopped dead in his tracks, in a crouched position, eyes wide with fear. Zolara had the sense to summon another Atronach before the Falmer had the chance to wonder what was happening.

The seconds appearance, and subsequent battle, provided S'maash enough time to grab a large chunk of something like obsidian. He didn't care to question its authenticity. Instead, he ran far to his right, in a round about fashion to get close to the cave wall. Just before reaching the carved stairs he heard and felt something peculiar. All Falmer ears turned to him. He had snagged a trip wire, causing a large claw to swing in his direction, a near miss but the Falmer were on to him.

"Oh my," Zolara said.

"Do something!" Brelyna yelled.

"I am woman," Zolara retorted.

He summoned one final Atronach to stand between the Falmer and S'maash, who was in full run with a stone the size of an Orc's fist. The fiery dancer created enough of a diversion for S'maash to reach Zolara and Brelyna.

"Time to run!" he yelled as he went on by.

They did not delay. All three explorers ran as fast as their legs carried them, through the cave and into the dark hallway. A natural fear of running in the dark slowed them, so Brelyna took the initiative to cast Candle Light. Her over charged version provided a little more light and lasted quite a bit longer. With the pathway quite clear before them, they made it all the way back to the water.

"Hurry cast your spell!" S'maash ordered.

Brelyna complied while hearing the distinct sound of Argonian weight diving into water. The Elves followed suit. S'maash managed to jam the stone into his robe, freeing his arms for a better swim. After emerging into Nchuand-Zel, S'maash had a new idea.

"Quick! Back underwater, we'll block the passage," he ordered.

So they did as he ordered. With the passage blocked, they surfaced once more, exhausted.

"By the Nine! That was some run," Zolara said, happily.

"There is something wrong with you Argonian," Brelyna said in disbelief.

"I can't believe I did it, we did it," S'maash added.

None of them cared to find out if the Falmer were successfully blocked, so they made their return, back through Nchuand-Zel and into Understone Keep, without so much as stopping for breath. Upon entering Aicantar's chamber of study, they found it deserted. Evidently, they had been in Nchuand-Zel quite a few hours. It was night and most everyone had gone to bed.

"The Silver-Blood Inn then?" Zolara asked.

"Good idea," Brelyna said.

"I could use some mead," S'maash added.

"Mead, mead, mead… would it kill you to get some beer now and again? Stupid bees and their stupid honey," Zolara said disgruntled.

"I'll buy," Brelyna added in resignation.

"I love mead," Zolara said.

**Chapter Seventeen One Half of an Endeavor**

The following morning, S'maash regrouped with his friends outside the inn. A cold wind blew in over the mountains to the west. It seemed to settle in Markarth. They walked at a brisk pace to Understone Keep. Upon entering, they went straight to Aicantar's study area. He was sitting with a book in his hands.

"Aicantar. Good morning," Brelyna said.

His face lit up.

"Good to see you. I had dared to believe you would return safely," he said.

"We retrieved the fragment as well as these strange books," S'maash said, showing the tomes to the Altmer.

"Ah. Well now, they seem to have gotten wet. No worries. So you say you found it?" Aicantar asked, intrigued.

S'maash produced the obsidian gem he stole from the Falmer. Then he explained how they went through a hidden passage, under the water.

"Under the water you say. Now I am truly impressed. A piece of the Heart of Lorkhan… can you be sure?" Aicantar asked.

"No but the Falmer appeared to have been worshipping it," S'maash replied.

"It was an eerie sight to behold," Brelyna added.

Zolara nodded in agreement. Aicantar shrugged. A brief moment passed wherein no one had anything to say. It was difficult to believe that the ancient artifact had been right under his feet the entire time. Finally, he returned to the damp books.

"I can't read them. I thought you might be able to," S'maash explained.

"Certainly I can try. My uncle was the one obsessed with the Dwemer. I just find their legacy fascinating. No doubt he has notes, allowing a translation. I should say left me notes… rest his soul," Aicantar commented.

"We're off to the College now. Thank you Aicantar," S'maash said.

"To study the relic I presume?" Aicantar added.

"Actually no, I need to recover a journal. I don't know the location of the other fragment. I need both of them to satisfy Hermaeus Mora," S'maash responded.

"Come back soon. I should have these translated within a month or so. Best of luck to you all," Aicantar said.

So the group left Markarth and hired a carriage ride back to Winterhold. The long trip allowed the travelers to discuss further planning. Brelyna believed she was not going to join S'maash on the next portion. It was too dangerous and she was needed at the College. Zolara decided he had had enough adventure for one week.

"Understandable. I appreciate that both of you came along. Perhaps I will find some fighters to hire. Do you have a Reyda Tong presence here?" S'maash asked.

"No. Nor do we have a Fighters' Guild. Instead we have the Companions. They're an order of warriors who's origin started thousands of years ago, back when Ysgramor first led the five hundred," Brelyna replied.

"I'll figure something," S'maash said with a smile.

The ride through Markarth's territories was relaxing. By the time they crossed over The Pale, night had set in and they fell asleep. The following morning, the cart driver woke them. Further discussions of what adventures and dangers lay ahead ensued. Night settled in once more before reaching the town of Winterhold. Beautiful patterns of colored lights swam in the black sky.

"Well, I'm off to bed. Stay safe S'maash," Zolara said and left.

"Will you be resting here?" Brelyna asked.

"I might as well. I have to recover Farengar's journal from Tolfdir," S'maash replied.

So, with nothing much to do until the following morning, they all went to sleep once more. After restless sleep, S'maash met Tolfdir in the hall of Elements. A few of the students had gathered to practice their Destruction skills. Thunder and explosions echoed in the background, along with laughter.

"Yes I recall reading something about the locations of the fragments. I can go retrieve the journal if you like," Tolfdir said.

"I'd appreciate that very much," S'maash answered.

A moment later Tolfdir returned, journal in hand. S'maash took it then flipped through a few pages. The latter portions of the journal contained bits of Farengar's thoughts on what he believed Hermaeus Mora needed. Previously, S'maash was uncertain as to what the notes referred to when speaking of two endeavors. The notes mentioned a city of stone. _Markarth clearly,_ S'maash thought. Another nonsensical word appeared, obviously of Dwemer origins.

"Mzulft. Where is that?" S'maash asked.

"Oh it's due north of Riften. You can try to get there from Windhelm but navigating round the mountains is quite perilous," Tolfdir advised.

"So I'll head all the way back to Riften. It's been a long time since I've been there," S'maash said, looking away.

"Is there anything you'll need before your journey?" Tolfdir asked.

"I'd like to keep a few potions, some food perhaps. I'm going to work a few enchantments to diversify my gear as well," S'maash announced.

"Before you do, I have something for you." Tolfdir started.

He produced something wrapped in a tan cloth. As he unwrapped, a pommel was revealed, then the entire blade. It was very odd. Tolfdir handed it to S'maash.

"Do you know what this is?" Tolfdir asked.

"I do not but I feel the Magicka radiating from within its structure," S'maash said, slowly.

"That is Keening, one of the artifacts used by the Dwemer when they vanished from our world. It's other half is Sunder," Tolfdir said.

S'maash looked up from the blade to meet the old Nord's eyes. He was aware of Kagrenac's tools but knew little else.

"Tell me more," S'maash demanded.

"I found it after you… well after you wreaked havoc on your room. Arniel had hidden it, or perhaps the Dragonborn had hidden it. I don't know how much you know about Arniel Gane but he was studying the Dwemer for entirely different reasons than yourself.

Upon his request, the Dragonborn helped Arniel with his endeavor. Other than the blade, I also found some old logbooks. They were hidden under some floorboards. Far as I can tell, Arniel forged a Warped Soul Gem and attempted a maneuver similar to the Dwemer's only he did not have all the necessary items.

I fear we'll never know just how it all ended. Arniel simply vanished," Tolfdir explained.

"I see. Where is the other half of this blade? Where is this Sunder?" S'maash asked.

Tolfdir only shook his head. S'maash put the blade away.

"Thank you. I'll be in my room," S'maash added.

He ran off to secure his equipment. Keening was an alluring artifact. It reverberated ever so slightly as though it had been lightly tapped. Once S'maash focused upon it, he felt three distinct enchantments, flows of Magicka._ How can it possess three enchantments?_ he thought to himself. It was those questions, which drove him ever forward.

After placing Keening in the old Linen Wraps, S'maash hid it safely inside a small chest. He then returned to his task at hand, forging versatile equipment. S'maash thought carefully. _There are no enchantments to increase the destructive power of magick. Instead, I can only reduce the drain upon my reserves. Physical damage, on the other hand, can be increased by fortifying one's own ability in specialized combat._ Before committing to his act, he scrambled for a new journal.

In the log he scribed a theory. He was going to find some Fortify Enchanting potions. He knew Brelyna had a few somewhere. Next he was going to craft a set of equipment to improve Smithing, not for himself but for his old friend in Riften, Balimund. S'maash reasoned that if he improved all of his equipment and fortified his newly honed combat skills, he might fare better against the Falmer and Automatons of Mzulft. Strong as magickal attacks were, they did little against several creatures. Furthermore, spells with a radius effect always had the possibility of injuring one's friends.

He logged the equipment and enchantments in his new journal before undertaking the actual task. _For Balimund: Leather Bracers, Leather Armor, Silver Ring, and Silver Necklace. All of these enchanted to Fortify Smithing. _

_For myself: a Hide Shield with Resist Magicka and Fortify Block. An Elven Sword with Fiery Soul Trap and Frost Damage. One pair of Leather Boots, Fortified with One-Handed and Muffle. Leather Armor, Fortifying my abilities with Light Armor and Stamina. One Leather Helmet, Fortifying Restoration and Destruction. A second set of Leather Bracers for myself, Fortifying One-Handed and Magicka. A Silver Ring to Resist Magicka and Fortify Destruction, and lastly a Silver Necklace with Fortify Restoration and Destruction._

He looked over his log, reasoning it was sufficient. Next he spent a few hours running about, wherein he sold off some treasures recovered from Nchuand-Zel, purchased all the required equipment, bought a few new Spell Tomes, and received the potions from Brelyna. After undertaking the monumental task of Enchanting, S'maash was ready for Riften. He left in the late evening. Between the jostlings of the cart ride, S'maash added to a journal he'd started long ago, when he was expelled. In it, he made a few notes about his friends, the places he'd seen, and his thoughts on his quest. One dewy morning, he arrived in Riften.

The town had nothing new since he'd departed on his first journey, to Winterhold. S'maash found Balimund at his forge.

"Is that S'maash? What are you doing out here? College business I presume," Balimund said as he stood to shake hands.

"Personal business and I brought you some gifts. I though you might want to try them," S'maash said, handing a satchel to Balimund.

"Armor?" Balimund asked.

"Enchanted to Fortify Smithing," S'maash said with a smile.

"I don't know what to say," Balimund said accepting the gift.

"Say you'll improve my equipment free of charge," S'maash added.

"You've been a good friend to me. That means something. Of course I'll do it," Balimund said, gratefully.

They spent some time catching up on life as Balimund worked the Worktable and Grindstone.

"So Mzulft eh? You're not the same mer who came in here almost a year ago," Balimund commented.

"I suppose not," S'maash replied.

"Just make sure you're careful. Seasoned warriors and mages might both fall prey to ancient traps. Keep your eyes peeled, O.K.?" Balimund suggested.

"Thank you friend. I will and I'll stop by once I've found what I'm looking for," S'maash added.

S'maash took the road heading north, out of Riften. The scenery was vastly different than most of Skyrim, trees grew all about the grassy hills. It did not take long before S'maash spotted broken piping protruding from the ground, surrounding cliffs, and ancient ruins. Mzulft was built high into the mountains.

After a few moments of jogging, S'maash came upon the doors leading into Mzulft proper and pushed his way in. Like the other Dwemer ruins, pipes, gears, and machinery lined the walls and ground, only in Mzulft they were grouped tighter together as though the Dwarves had too little space. S'maash was deafened by the clanking of machines.

A sudden sinking feeling set in, before S'maash could react, spikes from the ceiling dealt his flesh a bit of damage. He yelled in pain as he fell backwards.

"Oof! Balimund just told me to keep my eyes peeled…" S'maash complained.

After a quick heal, he stepped over the pressure plate and moved further in. It was difficult to tell whether Mzulft was simply older or more badly damaged than other ruins. Several oddities struck S'maash. The halls were steamy. There was old camping gear and winding areas led into portion of the ruin, which were not organic to Dwemer architecture. Those Earthy areas seemed to have been carved beyond the former walls and into the natural mountain. It was stranger still that Dwemer gas lamps hung suspended from the natural rock ceilings.

Evidence of a previous expedition caused S'maash to be extra careful. Thankfully, he spotted a few trip wires. He steered clear._ Definitely not Dwemer traps and the camping gear isn't Falmer. I wonder who came through?_ It was of no matter. It took some time to navigate the twisting cavern passages then more time to cross over darkened portions of Dwemer ruin. Besides a few traps, Mzulft appeared rather safe. One thought persisted at the back of S'maash's mind. _Why does it keep going up?_

Every other Dwemer ruin was designed to progresses deeper and deeper but Mzulft was different. After a long hike, S'maash found himself in a very dark room filled with steamy pipes. A few crumbled pillars lay before him. He gazed over an edge into a depression in the stone. It was obvious the only way forward was to hug the leftmost wall but a few pipes were protruding. Upon drawing closer, S'maash cast Candle Light. The spell revealed a few pressure plates in the ground. As he hugged the wall and piping, he made sure to step over the traps. On the other side, he was safe.

S'maash rounded one final corner. Before him was a set of Dwarven Metal doors. On the ground were dead Falmer and broken Automatons. S'maash walked passed the evidence of battle, into the Boilery, a damp, dark area with a strange mechanical whining. Large empty halls appeared picked clean. S'maash saw no Dwemer pottery, scrap metal, or anything. After passing a few more earthy areas, he came upon a room with barred gates, peculiar gates not of Dwemer construction. Taking a few moments to scan his surroundings, he noticed beyond one gate were mangled automatons. Beyond another was practically nothing, one stone bench. The other gate was open. Beyond it, was a rubbly passage and few a ferns growing from the ground.

S'maash settled for the open gate first. The path beyond was quite winding and undulating. Dwemer stonework soon gave way to the brown rocky passages carved by unknown hands. They, in turn, gave way to black stone and Glowing Mushrooms. S'maash treaded carefully, believing the area to be Falmer territory. He spotted a few dark huts, seemingly of Falmer architecture, but they were empty. Oddly, the Falmer cave gave way to more of Mzulft. S'maash then found himself in a large, rectangular room with a sunken center. At the center, were some large, broken, pipes. A small pool of water had gathered about the piping.

After a close inspection, S'maash found little of interest. He proceeded around the depression and up some stairs. There, he pushed through the doors into the Aedrome. S'maash came to a halt. Mzulft was very unlike Nchuand-Zel and Damlzthur. The Aedrome lacked much in the way of Dwemer art. It was mostly bland gray stone, though carved exceptionally well. Many doors remained locked. _If the way beyond the hall is through on of these damn doors I'll have to come back with someone who can pick these locks,_ S'maash reasoned.

Before making a decision to leave, he walked slowly around the large room. Tall pillars rose to the ceiling in a beautiful array. S'maash took a sort of break. As he drank and ate, he continued walking. He found one side of the Aedrome possessed stairs leading up and the opposite side had stairs leading down. Both were a veritable dead end.

"Nothing in here…" S'maash said to himself.

With no other alternative, he was forced to work his way back out of Mzulft. Before committing to the long return trip to Riften, he decided to rest. Once S'maash was replenished and revitalized, he took to backtracking. During the return, he stopped in the area with the strange barred gates.

"I wonder what the story is here," he said, checking the locked gates.

For all intents and purposes, the rooms beyond the gates appeared ordinary. Resigning himself in futility, he returned to Riften. It was late evening when he entered the town gates.

"Lightly armored means light on your feet. Smart," the guard said.

S'maash nodded accordingly before making his way to Haelga's Bunkhouse for a not restful sleep. Much to his surprise, he found a familiar face bickering with Haelga.

"I just don't understand why there are no Argonians in your employment," Zolara said, irritated.

"Listen, there simply aren't any here," Haelga replied curtly.

Upon noticing S'maash had entered, she walked around her counter passed Zolara, who followed her approach to S'maash. Zolara's face lit up, as much as an Argonian face was able to. S'maash shook his head and laughed.

"Welcome back. Oh yes, I remember you," Haelga said to S'maash.

"Excuse me for one moment," S'maash replied.

While Haelga left to find S'maash a lady friend, Zolara approached him.

"No luck in Mzulft so you come here?" he asked.

"Something like that. What brings you to Riften anyway?" S'maash asked.

"I couldn't bear missing out on the excitement, so I took off to Windhelm where I purchased a ride here. I only just arrived. I would have guessed they had better hospitality in a place like this," Zolara explained as he looked away.

S'maash shrugged.

"Your bed awaits Dark Elf," Haelga said.

S'maash patted Zolara on the shoulder.

As he walked passed the Argonian he spoke, "meet with me tomorrow morning at the town gate."

After bedding down for a long night, S'maash caught a few hours' sleep. The following morning, he met Zolara. They stood just outside Riften. A melody of birdsong hung sweetly in the air.

"I need your assistance. There are a few gates and doors I'm unable to open. Until I explore those areas I won't know for certain where this next fragment might be located," S'maash explained.

"What kind of defenses are we working against?" Zolara inquired.

"Just old Dwemer traps and what look like a few trip wires left behind by an expedition. There is something odd about that place. I saw a few dead Falmer and broken Automatons but nothing to fight," S'maash answered.

"Very well. Shall we be off?" Zolara asked.

"Yes," S'maash answered.

As they made their journey back to Mzulft, Zolara grew curious.

"Was he good?" Zolara asked.

"Excuse me?" S'maash asked.

Zolara snickered.

"I jest friend. Who was she? Last night I mean," Zolara clarified.

S'maash replied with a dirty look.

"I see," Zolara said.

The two adventurers entered Mzulft. Buzzing and whirring machines led the way back to the strange gates. Even Zolara could not help but wonder why they were present.

"They look to be made by modern man no?" Zolara asked.

"I believe so yes," S'maash replied.

Zolara checked them.

"I can open this one but the other might be a little difficult," Zolara stated.

"First I want to check some of these other doors further up," S'maash stated.

"Very well," Zolara agreed.

They progressed through the cave-like portions, back to the rectangular area with depressed flooring. Then they walked up the stairs into the Aedrome. The first locked door gave Zolara trouble. He tried his pick one way then another. He broke three in total before scratching at his horn with a broken pick.

"I think it needs a key," Zolara remarked.

S'maash had been standing behind him, taking in the sight of stonework.

"Truly?" he asked.

"Yes I'm quite serious. Most locks, even the most difficult, can be picked. When I come across one such as this, I have no way to align the tumblers. One must have the key," Zolara explained.

"We might have to take the entire door down," S'maash said.

"You. You might have to take the entire door down," Zolara retorted.

S'maash shook his head before continuing to several other doors. Most of them revealed nothing but dead ends. One revealed a dead end and a wrecked Dwarven Centurian. One door led them down a hallway. In it, was an old makeshift camp. Among the bedroll was a nonsensical journal, Paratus' Log.

In it, were scribblings about a Synod expedition in search of utilizing some Dwemer construct to locate objects of great power all across Tamriel. The first few passages made enough sense, as they described using a special crystal to focus starlight. After those passages, came descriptions of Falmer raids. S'maash and Zolara exchanged a glance.

Following the Falmer raids, and the theft of the crystal, came a passage about the Dragonborn. He had evidently recovered the crystal for Paratus. After that, was a passage declaring that the Dragonborn was harboring something immensely potent at the College of Winterhold. S'maash and Zolara exchanged another glance.

The scribblings became less comprehensive. Apparently Paratus had decided to continue living in Mzulft. He feared a journey back through the ruins would end with his death at the hand of the Falmer.

"But there are no remains," Zolara commented.

"Maybe he left after all? Let's keep reading," S'maash replied.

Further passages were simple one or two phrases, _revolving rooms, split centers, Falmer come through walls_. The phrase _they're in the walls_ became recurrent. Paratus's mind had obviously decayed but Zolara was right, he could not have stayed in that hallway.

"Let's continue further and see this Dwemer construct," Zolara suggested.

So they pressed on, going through a final door, into a winding circular room. At the center was a massive Dwemer steel structure with several glass plates. The winding path took the two around and over the Dwemer sphere to what appeared to be a study hall, of sorts. There was nothing to be found, so the two marveled at the machine for a moment. They tried the only other door. It led to an unsightly exit into the high mountains.

"I don't think your fragment is here S'maash," Zolara said, looking out into Skyrim's landscape.

"Let' go back inside then," S'maash answered.

Slowly, the explorers combed over the ruin once more. They found themselves at the locked gates. While S'maash rested for a moment to gather his thoughts, Zolara decided to pick the locked gates. He started with the most difficult. Beyond it was only Dwarven wreckage but there was little else to do.

"Are you certain? Could your wizard not have made a mistake?" Zolara asked as he worked away.

A subtle _clink_ rang through the room. Zolara had broken another pick.

"I don't know. I might just leave and come back later. I can't forego the possibility of him being right. I may have to comb over every stone, every crevice," S'maash said.

"Got it!" Zolara yelled in success.

"So what's in there?" S'maash asked.

"Rubbish," Zolara said after a moment.

"And the other?" S'maash inquired.

"Remains to be seen," Zolara said, jauntily.

While Zolara set about picking the second lock, S'maash searched the room with the rubbish. Zolara was right. There was nothing, then the sound of the other gate opening. S'maash walked over to find Zolara standing. They met eyes but said nothing. S'maash looked about the second room.

"Just a bench," S'maash said.

"Maybe these were holding cells," Zolara suggested.

"Aye," S'maash said.

A break in the pattern on the stone floor called his attention. He knelt down and felt it. He looked up to see the same in the ceiling.

"Odd that the ceiling should have that small opening at its apex and more odd that this one room possess a strange furrow along the floor," S'maash commented.

"These walls appear to have a steady seam as well," Zolara said.

"Start running your hands along the stones. There may be a switch or pressure plate or something," S'maash said, excitedly.

He was correct. After a few moments of searching, Zolara found a small stone. He pushed it into the wall. A sudden rumble and deafening sound assaulted the two. It seemed as though the whole of Mzulft was coming apart. Fearing the worst, they ran back a few paces to observe. The far half of the room was slowly rotating along the seam. On a vertical axis, it rearranged itself. Once the process came to completion, the former opening in the ceiling was along the floor. Mzulft had a secret way down.

**Chapter Eighteen The Depths of Mzulft**

A spiraling set of stone steps had taken the explorers into the depths of Mzulft. Both S'maash and Zolara cast a Candle Light spell to reveal various rock formations, carved into the deep. Several layers of strange mycelia covered the walls and ground of the cavernous area. Zolara prodded at the luminescent growth.

"It looks similar to Glowing Mushroom but I assure you it isn't," Zolara explained.

S'maash was indifferent. He was only focused on what might lay ahead. Zolara eyed him as he passed by. The Dark Elf walked with a purpose. As Zolara kept pace, he also made a mental note of several possible new reagents.

"Did the Dwemer practice Alchemy?" he asked.

"I am unsure. You think these reagents are undiscovered?" S'maash asked in return.

"Yes. I have never seen some of the mushrooms, much less had the privilege to study the actual root system," Zolara replied.

As they progressed ever downwards, the cave-like structure of Mzulft grew wider, a black expanse of stone walls. Among the walls, the unknown mycelia glowed, providing an eerie soft blue light. S'maash grew somewhat agitated.

"It could be anywhere in here. This place is endless," he complained.

"Perhaps we should hug the walls in search of Falmer structures," Zolara suggested.

"Aye," S'maash agreed.

"The left one or the right one?" Zolara asked.

"It doesn't matter. Left," S'maash said.

"No I like the right one," Zolara argued and moved off to his right.

S'maash sighed and followed behind him. A long walk ensued. The two were careful, walking over large rocks. From their vantage point, they saw some mist, off in the distance to their left. The empty cave beneath Mzulft was disorienting. Zolara tapped S'maash on the shoulder then pointed to the mist. S'maash nodded.

The two walked away from the wall they had been hugging, as it yielded nothing, and approached the mist. Moments later, they arrived close enough to realize it was water. A large brass-like pipe rose from the water to heights unseen.

"This must be a source of steam," Zolara concluded.

S'maash nodded accordingly but remained aloof.

"It doesn't help," he complained.

After resting for a few moments, they continued their search along the walls. Still they found no results.

"I have an idea," Zolara said.

He proceeded to summon a Storm Atronach. After the summoning, he started firing spells of all kinds in all directions.

"Do the same!" he yelled.

S'maash, a little confused, rose from his seat with a subtle shrug.

"We're attracting Falmer! Where ever they come from must be where we have to go!" he yelled louder.

"Are you insane? We could get killed!" S'maash replied angrily.

"Hey, you want to find this thing right?" Zolara asked.

S'maash shrugged in resignation. The insane Argonian had a point, albeit maddening. First, S'maash overcharged Ebony Flesh then he summoned a Flame Atronach of his own. Instead of wasting any of his Magicka reserves, he resorted to clapping. That rowdiness progressed for a few moments but still there was nothing more than echoes and Fireballs vanishing in the distance. S'maash and Zolara eyed each other. Then S'maash ran back to the piping. Upon reaching it, he beat it with sword and shield. The gargantuan tube reverberated with strong echoes.

"Excellent," Zolara said.

For a few seconds, they both beat on it. Then they waited. Slow minutes rolled by before a flurry of feet were heard pounding against the ground. Both adventurers threw their heads about, looking for the Falmer stampede. Zolara spotted them approaching. He tapped S'maash. In order to provide certainty of orientation, Zolara placed a Fire Rune on the pipe, marking the direction from which to look.

"Alright, it looks like more than a dozen Falmer are coming. We'd better summon Atronachs," S'maash suggested.

A Flame and Storm Atronach were summoned. The two demons waded into battle as S'maash and Zolara found a rocky hill to hide behind. In the dark recess of Mzulft Deep, the Falmer had an easy time wiping out the summoned creatures. Zolara and S'maash watched the wiry mer as they beat upon the Atronachs with swords and axes. After the battle, they summoned more Atronachs then moved to a different hill, one slightly closer to the fray.

While the bulk of the Falmer attacked the Atronachs, a few spread out in search of intruders. S'maash and Zolara decided to counter attack. Fire Bolts and Icy Spears flew from all about the cave. The mages did not simply post up and attack. They hid, launched a few spells, threw up their Ebony Flesh, and moved to a new vantage point. On occasion, they summoned a few more Atronachs. In that manner, they managed to defeat a few Falmer. As their confidence grew, the distance between them and a Gloom Lurker shrunk. With a mighty hiss, the Falmer struck S'maash with it's wicked blade.

S'maash let out a grunt in pain and surprise. Zolara turned quickly enough to catch a Falmer shield bash to the face. He too let out a cry. Both recovered quickly. S'maash recovered first. As he drew his sword, the Gloom Lurker lunged forward with repeated strikes. Between the Ebony Flesh and his improved Leather Armor, S'maash was not overly damaged.

With Wall of Ice in his other hand, he poured a frozen attack of magickal, ice, spikes over his opponent. Zolara snuck behind the Falmer and struck it with his Dwarven Sword of Arching. The sneak attack was enough to bring the Snow Elf to its knees. S'maash finished it off with a thrust from his own blade, penetrating the Falmer's carapace like armor. The dead Falmer filled the Daedric Heart Gem. Zolara grasped S'maash shoulder.

"Atronachs and move," he whispered.

S'maash summoned a Flame Atronach and took to another area in the cave. He looked about wildly but he had lost Zolara. A bright, bluish, glow brought him back to S'maash's eyes. Zolara had conjured a Frost Atronach, an icy golem, off to the left. Again, they tossed about Fire Bolts and Icy Spears at the remaining Falmer and again, the Falmer managed to defeat the Atronachs. For a few moments they succeeded in their sneaky tactics. Then the Falmer retreated. There had not been a need to mark the pipe, as it was easy enough to follow the Falmer.

After regrouping and giving chase, the mages reached a passage. Dug into the side of a hill and ensconced in darkness, was a tight corridor, leading even further down. Zolara and S'maash met at its entrance upon following the Falmer.

"I'd hate for them to regroup," Zolara whispered.

"It will be easier to fight them in the corridor, they can't surround us or move well," S'maash said.

"Right. So we move forward slowly," Zolara suggested.

"Aye," S'maash replied.

They allowed the sound of angry Falmer to subside before moving. There was no way to sneak, as it was totally black in the corridor. Both travelers grew hesitant and decided to cast Candle Light. Undulating, magickal, lighting revealed the corridor was hewn from a marble-type stone. It was quite beautiful as the glistening portions of shiny stone reflected the Candle Light. A few steps forward brought them to a twist. A few more steps brought them another turn. They proceeded in that fashion for a few moments. No Falmer seemed to be coming. S'maash stopped.

"What if there are multiple entrances in here and they work around to our rear? We might get pincered," S'maash whispered with alarm.

"Well… too late to worry about that now," Zolara answered, dryly.

"Brelyna was right. There is something wrong with you," S'maash said.

"Nonsense," Zolara retorted.

The Argonian was right of course. After regaining his composure, S'maash pushed further into the depths of Mzulft. Then they both came to a halt. Some kind of rhythm was bleeding into the area. Allowing the Candle Light to vanish, they crawled on all fours, ever slowly, as they felt their way with their hands. The farther they crawled, the louder the rhythm grew. Soon, they saw a bit of orange light.

The corridor opened into a central stage-like area. From the center stage were other tight corridors, leading to areas unknown. Below, S'maash and Zolara saw Falmer. As it were, they had reached a precipice. A bonfire burned behind a structure at the epicenter of the stage, some twenty feet below and several dozen yards away. The Falmer were arranged in a circle. Two of them fought each other in front of the structure at the epicenter. The sitting, or spectating, Falmer were simply beating sword and shield against the ground.

"By the Nine what is this?" Zolara whispered.

"I don't know but I'm willing to bet that's the other fragment," S'maash said.

He was referring to the structure behind the fighting Falmer. While they wrestled and pounded one another's heads against the rocky ground, S'maash tried to understand what he was looking at but it was too far away and the strange shadows cast from the fire made it even more difficult to discern much of anything. Zolara tapped his shoulder to draw S'maash's attention then pointed down and to the right. There was a winding way down. S'maash was hesitant.

The structure of the winding corridor was far too tight to run efficiently but the Falmer were contorted enough to make great use, they would surely over power the mages. A battle was an unrealistic approach as there were a great many Falmer below.

"We're going to have to hope they break off and go to sleep or eat or something," S'maash whispered.

Zolara nodded. While they could not quite make one another out, the glow from the fire was more than ample to detect movement. They retreated a bit into the corridor. Lying on their bellies, they continued to observe the fighting Falmer. Evidently, they behaved as gladiators and the center stage was their arena. They appeared to be fighting to appease the structure. It was a few hours later that they finally declared a winner. One heavily scarred Falmer reigned supreme. He then cut himself with a strange weapon, took his blood, and threw it at the structure. Before leaving, he placed the weapon at the foot of the structure. One-by-one the Falmer exited.

S'maash tapped Zolara's shoulder. They scuttled off to the center stage below.

"Guess we found Paratus," Zolara remarked.

The center structure was a skeleton. Its wrists were cinched to two chitinous posts while its waist was cinched to a third, taller, post, in the center. Inside the skeleton's ruptured ribcage was the second fragment of the Heart of Lorkhan, the supreme Falmer's blood still wet upon it. At Paratus's bony feet was the weapon, a hammer. Like Keening, it reverberated ever so slightly. In appearance, it was an ornate hammer with an edge on one side not unlike a hatchet, only less broad. Upon its Dwemer steel handle were a few jewels. S'maash took it and the fragment then looked at Zolara, who was already making his way back to the corridor.

They snuck off to the opening before Zolara cast Candle Light and summoned a Flame Atronach to guard their rear. They made a safe return to the large opening under Mzulft.

"Now we just need to find the way back into Mzulft proper," Zolara remarked.

While they caught their breath, they slowly returned to the large pipe. Figuring that as the center, S'maash chose a direction he thought was appropriate. Zolara decided to shoot Fire Balls instead, hoping to see the stairs. To their benefit, he saw them.

"Follow me," he said.

A journey through Mzulft and back Riften took a few hours. It was early morning by the time they entered the town's gates. The guard greeted them.

"I used to be an adventurer like you then I took an arrow in the knee," he said.

"Yes I believe we've heard that one before," Zolara said.

"Must have been from my cousin in Markarth," the guard replied.

"Actually it was," S'maash said.

They left the guard to his duty and entered the Bee and Barb to rent a room. After some much needed rest in their modest quarters, they woke to eat, drink, and figure the next step.

**Chapter Nineteen Dragon Soul**

S'maash and Zolara sat inside the Bee and Barb. A lively bard strummed her lute as she sang about the Dragonborn and his defeat of Alduin. The surroundings were rather eloquent. Two Argonians, a married couple, ran the two-story tavern. Several chairs and tables lined the social area. Without paying attention to the comings and goings of Riften's masses, the two mages spoke about their next move.

"What does the journal say?" Zolara asked.

"It mentions something about an immortal soul. I'm supposed to infuse the Heart of Lorkhan with something. A Dragon's soul?" S'maash asked, looking away from the journal.

"Don't they resist Soul Trap?" Zolara asked.

"Yes, except they could not resist the Dragonborn's ability to steal their souls, a conversation I had with Farengar," S'maash remarked.

"Then what do we do?" Zolara asked.

"I don't know. According to the journal that's it. The final step involves placing the Heart of Lorkhan somewhere forgotten but I am unfamiliar with all this," S'maash replied.

"We should head back to the College," Zolara said.

So they did. A few days of traveling by foot passed. Exhausted from travel, Zolara went to sleep in the Hall of Attainment. S'maash went to the Arcaeneum to redouble his study efforts. It was late and Urag had gone to sleep, leaving the elaborate library with an air of loneliness.

"S'maash," the Wretched Abyss called.

Briefly startled, S'maash turned to engage Hermaeus Mora.

"What is it? What am I supposed to do?" S'maash asked.

"You are already aware. I will grant you a boon for the next portion of your journey. Behold, Dragon Soul Trap," Hermaeus Mora spoke.

The Daedric Prince granted S'maash the ability to cast Soul Trap on Dragons.

"Go now. Find a Dragon and take it's soul," Hermaeus Mora ordered.

"Then what do I do? How can the soul fill the Heart of Lorkhan if it is not intact?" S'maash asked.

But the Wretched Abyss vanished. There was only silence. S'maash felt slighted with an impossible task. He was too tired to care. He had, at least, received a partial answer, seemingly from nowhere. He went to sleep for the night. The following morning, he called Tolfdir, Brelyna, and Zolara for a meeting in the courtyard.

"So what do you think?" S'maash asked after providing the information.

"I believe you should do your best to carry out the task at hand. Find a Dragon," Tolfdir said.

"Where is he going to find a Dragon?" Brelyna asked.

They were pensive for a moment.

"The Blades might know but they are difficult to speak with," Tolfdir said.

"Aye, Farengar made a similar comment to me once," S'maash added.

Faralda approached the group with a welcome interruption.

"S'maash you have a visitor," she announced.

He turned to her but there was no one with her.

"Where?" he asked.

"At the Inn, in Winterhold. Non-practitioners are not allowed," she said with a condescending tone.

"Excuse me," S'maash said to the group. "Who is this visitor?"

"You're brother." Faralda replied indifferently.

"Truly?" he asked excitedly. "You all keep thinking. I'll be back later."

S'maash ran into town and entered the inn. He spotted his brother immediately, the only Dark Elf in town. He was covered in Glass Armor, a Glass Greatsword across his broad back. The resilient Malachite possessed a nearly glowing teal hue, gold filigree held the glass-like metal in place.

"Brother!" S'maash called.

"Well met!" S'maath yelled back.

"Truly I am glad to see you here. How are the warriors of the Reyda Tong? How are you doing?" S'maash asked.

"We are doing fine. Fara fell… sad news but I was promoted to leader of our chapter in L'Thu Oad," S'maath replied.

"A bitter sweet promotion then. I'm both glad and sorry to hear that," S'maash commented.

"And yourself? The strange notes I received from you, expelled for Necromancy, reinstated, running errands. Am I correct in understanding you're court wizard to the Jarl of Whiterun?" S'maath asked.

"On paper yes but I have not even been there for close to a month," S'maash replied.

"Any advances in your studies?" S'maath asked.

"To some extent yes. I have learned dual Enchanting and I have acquired a special sort of Soul Gem allowing better use of the souls from men, mer, and demon. Most recently I have acquired the fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash told his brother.

"Truly remarkable," S'maath replied.

After catching up for a bit, S'maash offered to enchant his brother's equipment. They returned to the College. The others had retired to quarters unseen. Utilizing the Falmer soul from the Daedric Heart Gem, and other Grand Soul Gems from his reserves, S'maash crafted some excellent equipment for close quarter combat. Fortification of Two-Handed wielding, coupled with improved Light Armor handling, made S'maath the most potent warrior his brother had seen. S'maath was grateful.

"So what's next for my brother?" S'maath asked as they spoke inside the Hall of Countenance.

"We're trying to find a Dragon and discern how to filter its soul into the fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan. I have a special Soul Trap spell for the task but am unclear as to where to locate a Dragon," S'maash said.

"You're colleagues are unhelpful?" S'maath inquired.

"Never. We should go join them," S'maash replied.

They ventured into the Aracaeneum where S'maash met with Tolfdir once more.

"My brother is willing to lend his expertise in fighting this Dragon, should we locate one," S'maash said.

"Excellent. Truthfully I worried about you fighting a Dragon on your own. Any Dragon currently alive would have to be most powerful, intelligent, and illusive… and I believe we may have located one.

While you were gone, I was speaking to Urag. He believes he may have found texts regarding a formerly hidden Dragon Cult, not unlike the cult prevailing during Alduin's reign. If he is correct, they may be worshipping a Dragon in their vicinity," Tolfdir explained.

"Where do I go?" S'maash asked.

S'maath was somewhat surprised to see he his brother as a seasoned warrior and traveler. He had expected a bookworm but the expulsion had not been kind to S'maash.

"Sigrid's Plunge. Allow me to mark it on your map. Tread carefully," Tolfdir advised.

"Perhaps Zolara would like to come along." S'maash suggested.

"He spoke of returning to Mzulft for reagents. I believe he and Brelyna have already left," Tolfdir answered.

S'maash nodded. The Dark Elf brothers started a long walk to Windhelm. Traveling took many hours but they welcomed the time together. S'maath spoke of his ascension through the ranks of the Reyda Tong and S'maash spoke of the trials and tribulations he had faced as well as his meeting Azura.

"She must have been a sight to behold," S'maath remarked.

"More than you can imagine. There are no words to describe such beauty, her beauty. The beauty of her realm, it was nearly intolerable," S'maash replied.

Winds howled and snow pelted their backs as they traversed perilous mountains. Once they drew closer, the stone walls of Windhelm came into view. There was no way to enter the fortified town from the north, so they circled until reaching the stables. A cart was already available.

"Let us not waste time then," S'maash said.

He purchased their ride then instructed the driver.

"We need to reach Sigrid's Plunge, please," S'maash said.

"Certainly. A perilous area you know. Some say there are Dragons still roosting at its peak," the driver replied.

"Let us hope so. We are hungry for adventure," S'maath answered.

"Must be fools or heroes," the driver said.

The cart ride took them most of the way, almost half way, up the mountain. Soon after, the road grew too steep. The driver informed them it was time to move on foot.

"Aye. Safe return to you Nord," S'maath said.

Rested from their ride, the brothers started a journey to the top. The wind was not quite as bitter as they had anticipated. The time of day, nearly noon, also helped to provide some warmth. The regional stone was a pleasant gray with bits of snow all over. A few trees grew scattered. As they pressed on, the road wound one way then another.

S'maath threw a hand upon his brother's shoulder. They both spotted a trip wire. As they looked about they spotted a figure on a rocky overhang. Someone was watching. The brothers looked at each other.

"Hail!" S'maash yelled out.

"I suggest you turn back lest you want to feel the wrath of the Dovah Brod," a rough Nord replied.

"Excuse us, we're not here to fight men," S'maath answered.

"So be it Dunmer. I warned you," The Nord retorted.

Sound of boots running over stone came from the mountain. The Dark Elves prepared themselves for a battle. S'maash casted Ebony Flesh then summoned a Flame Atronach. His brother drew his Glass Great Sword. An onslaught of large Nords in strange robes came from above. Most of them wore pale green robes with Dragon Scale and Dragon Bone secured to the material. Others wore Steel Plate and various pieces of armor.

The Flame Atronach was first to strike. The fiery demon launched Fire Bolts upon the enemy. The mountain path was narrow with one side blocked by stone and the other by a long fall below. With nowhere to run but forward, the first of the Dovah Brod took some Fire Bolts to the body. Flames assaulted his robes. His brethren were calloused and shoved him aside to move passed. They advanced.

"You made a mistake coming here!" one Nord yelled.

While S'maash and the Atronach fired their magick, S'maath stepped firmly and swung his blade from side to side. The Nords' armored robes were no match for his newly enchanted equipment. Limbs and heads rolled effortlessly.

"This is something, brother!" S'maath exclaimed.

S'maash smiled to himself. It was not long before a Steel Plated Nord hacked the Atronach to fiery pieces with a large, Orcish Battle Axe. The Nord warrior, a blonde haired beast, grinned widely before shouting.

"Fus, Roh Da!" the Nord shouted.

To S'maath's surprise, the Thu'um blew his brother away with a wavering blast of vocal potency. S'maash struck the mountain stone like a rag doll. With wide eyes, S'maath charged at the Nord, sword point at the ready. In defense, the Nord knocked the blade away with the haft of his axe. He then butted the Dunmer with his head, dealing no damage. The impact with which the Nord struck was slightly unnerving but in skill, he was no match for S'maath.

"Hah! Like the bite of a flea," S'maath said.

He stepped in low and rose gripping his sword firmly. The Malachite blade slid into the Nord's midsection with relative ease.

"You cannot win," the warrior claimed.

While the shouting Nord writhed in agony, S'maash recovered. He saw a few more, green robed, Dragon Clan members approaching. Some fired their arrows from a distance but the wind made it difficult to aim, others threw Fire Balls and Ice Spikes but the spells had little effect. S'maash was very proud of his enchantments as he provided himself and his brother an improved ability to Resist Magicka. He drew sword and shield before joining his brother.

Standing together, the Dark Elves blocked the Nords from gaining more ground. The Dovah Brod had been routed against the side of the cliff, both onto their rear and their right. The only path left was a fall. While S'maash was fighting brazenly, he worried about another shout and where it might land them.

"Careful brother!" he yelled as he kept his shield against the blade of a Nord. "Another Thu'um might send us below!"

"Aye, not if I reduce them to cabbage!" S'maath replied.

Glowing Ice Spikes sank deep into their armor and Flames licked at their ears but the magickal damage was ineffective. The only danger came from the clan's numbers. Four of them had fallen to blade and spell but more came rushing down from the paths above. An arrow struck S'maash in the shoulder. He let out a cry of pain but was not hindered.

"Fight on brother!" S'maath said striking another Nord to the ground.

Quickly, he stepped a foot forward and slashed low. A Nord took blade to the knee. Before he hit the ground he took the blade again, to the head. S'maath pressed on, slid his blade into another, and lifted him clean off the ground. The two met eyes as life ebbed away from the Nord.

"Death is highly overrated!" a dying Nord yelled.

S'maash ducked beneath the swing of an oncoming axe, stepped left with shield raised to block another axe then bashed a Nord wearing thick, Steel Armor. As the enemy recoiled, S'maash lunged his blade into the Nord's throat. Blood poured from the mortal wound.

He clenched his teeth yelling, "S'wit!"

More arrows rained from above.

"Summon an Atronach! I need to reach the archers," S'maath ordered.

"Aye," S'maash replied.

With no time to waste, he dropped his shield. It struck the snow softly as S'maash summoned another Flame Atronach. Once the demon spawned, he recovered his shield. The Atronach threw Fire Balls at the archers and S'maath cut down a spell caster, who fell a long way towards the base of Sigrid's Plunge. While in mid run, S'maath was vaulted up the stony path by a Thu'um from his rear. Worried about his brother's safety, S'maash charged up, passed a Nord woman with two maces in her grip.

"I'll have your head," she yelled.

Finding his brother already recovered and fighting enemies from the other end, S'maash engaged the mighty lass. She spat upon the ground before charging, long red hair wavered in the breeze. Though she was nearly completely covered in iron plating, she moved like lightning. The left mace came first. S'maash blocked it easily enough. The right mace came next, knocking his shield from his grip. With an Icy Spear launching from his left hand, and two quick slashes from his blade, the warrioress fell, a bloody mess. A handful of archers remained.

"Damn you Dark Elves. KrifAhrkDir take you!" one yelled as he let loose an Ebony Arrow.

With no shield in hand, S'maash took a second arrow, high on the left of his chest.

"Brother," he gasped.

S'maath heard the pleas, turned, and spotted the archer drawing another arrow. He charged at a full run, down hill, and crashed into the green robed, archer. They tumbled off the cliff, twenty feet below. A massive metallic _thud_ resounded with the impact of two bodies striking the rocks beneath. S'maath writhed about for a second. A terrible pain was at his back but the Nord on his chest lied motionless. There were no enemies left.

S'maash, with two arrows in his body, walked to his brother and pulled the deceased Nord off him. The Glass Great Sword had pierced the enemy, a pool of blood collected in S'maath's armored grooves.

"A fine pair we make eh?" S'maath asked, smiling.

His Glass Helmet slid off after the impact and his hair was a bloody mess. He rolled over to his knees and rested against the large stone he had fallen on. S'maash knelt beside him and casted Healing Hands upon his brother. Once the magickal healing light helped S'maath recover his strength, he helped to pull the arrows from S'maash, who then healed himself.

"Now all we must fight is a Dragon?" S'maath asked.

"So it would seem," he replied.

**Chapter Twenty KrifAhrkDir**

The bloody skirmish between the Dark Elves and the Dovah Brod left the brothers exhausted. Hours passed before either of them felt the spirit of the fight return to their hearts. The evening sun had set in before their eyes. Skyrim's evenings were often clear, subtle even. With the coming of night, the brothers took to discussion.

"Tell me again, how is this supposed to work?" S'maath asked.

The Elves sat beside each other, backs resting against stone. S'maash looked at his brother then shook his head with subtle dismay. He heaved a sigh before reiterating.

"For the final time, S'maath. I will blast the Dragon with spells. Once it lands, you must strike its wings to keep it from flying. Should everything turn out well then I will use Hermaeus Mora's Dragon Soul Trap spell upon it," S'maash explained.

"But how will one soul fill two gems?" S'maath asked.

S'maash opened his mouth to answer but his brother had more to ask.

"And what if I kill it by mistake, or it flees, or it dies before the spell takes effect? I must tell you, I have little confidence in your so called plan," he stated unabashedly.

S'maash looked away from his brother in obvious aggravation. It was evident that S'maath had posed intelligent questions but he was uninterested in speculations.

"Listen, nothing is certain here. We will do what we can and our survival is more important than my quest. Now if my brother, the warrior, is finished complaining, we shall send this Dragon to Oblivion," S'maash said.

S'maath chuckled as he nodded in approval. They commenced their journey up the beaten mountain path. Sigrid's Plunge was not altogether easy to traverse, so it took some doing and some resting before coming upon the peak. Over an hour had passed since night settled overhead. Skyrim's gorgeous lights swooned against the void. Upon setting feet atop the peak, S'maash spotted the strangest rock formation he'd ever set eyes on.

A few dozen yards from the brothers was something akin to spiked stones. With head cocked to the side, S'maash stared at the formation. Both brothers moved slowly across the uneven, snow packed terrain. S'maath grabbed his brother's wrist with a deft maneuver. The stones moved then revealed two massive red eyes. KrifAhrkDir the Dragon had smelled their ascent.

"Ah the Dur forms of the Chimer approach. You defeated the weak Jul, who call themselves a Brod of Dovah. Krosis, but you are here for Grah, battle, not worship," KrifAhrkDir spoke with a terrible voice.

S'maath drew his sword. Locking eyes with the Dragon, he felt smaller than he ever had before. It was more terrifying than his first scuffle as a child. For an unknown reason, S'maash was indifferent.

"They called you KrifAhrkDir no? Tell me Dovah, where do Dragons go when they perish?" S'maash asked.

As he spoke, he overcharged Ebony Flesh. Before the Dragon could answer, he summoned a Flame Atronach.

"You enter my Strunma, kill my worshipers, and question my immortality, my Unt Sos? You are a fool Dur Chimer. Dovah do not die!" With his yell, he extended massive and scaly wings.

"Truly brother you must have lost your mind," S'maath exclaimed looking over his shoulder to S'maash.

He did not take his eyes off the Dragon. With one mighty beat, piles of snow flurried about. The Dragon started to rise from a stone perch. S'maash and the Atronach wasted no time firing spells at KrifAhrkDir. Icy Spears and Fireballs collided with magickal scales, doing little if any damage.

The great beast screamed into the night as he flew in one, giant, circle. He moved so far, so fast, that for seconds at a time, the brothers could not see him beyond the large stones atop Sigrid's Plunge.

"Come, fight with us, KrifAhrkDir!" S'maath called out.

A rush of adrenaline had possessed both Dunmer. They were poised and confident. Another blood curdling growl from KrifAhrkDir signaled his approach. He glided over them, with grace and ease, letting loose a mouthful of fiery breath. The snow below their feet melted immediately. A terrible heat accosted them and they could not see from the brightness of the flame.

"Where is he?" S'maath yelled.

S'maash heard the beating wings approach from the rear. He turned to look and spotted the enormous Dragon silhouette across the night sky. As the Dragon came once more, S'maash launched Icy Spears, piercing the dark night. Rather than overcharging, he threw multiples. Wildly, they flew from his hands. The Dragon's movement was so quick that a rapid magickal attack had a better chance of landing than one potent blast. A few Icy Spears did impact along with more Fireballs from the dancing Atronach.

KrifAhrkDir rushed upon them with such speed that his midair maneuver was inexplicable. A gust of heavy wind accosted the Elves as the Dragon threw his head higher, effectively pulling his entire body to a vertical position. He then banked left before grasping a large stone to perch. With wide-open jaws, and fully spread wings, KrifAhrkDir expelled more fiery breath. S'maash hid behind his shield while his brother took a knee, to shield his eyes with his blade. Flames washed over both Dark Elves.

From the ceaseless attack, the Atronach was banished to Oblivion. S'maash looked back for a second. He then charged at the Dragon. S'maath followed suit. Both their feet splattered pools of water. Upon closing the distance, KrifAhrkDir reached his head out and snapped his jaws at S'maash, who defended by placing the shield inside the Dragons mouth. As it bit upon the shield, S'maath struck, his blade pierced through the right wing.

With a mighty roar, and a flick of his head in the direction of his pain, KrifAhrkDir snatched the shield from S'maash, who inevitably went flying and crashing into his brother. Both elves tumbled over in the water amassed upon Sigrid's Plunge.

"This is all the challenge you provide? Krosis, but you are mere mortals, weak and feeble!" KrifAhrkDir belittled them.

Again, the Dragon beat its wings to take flight. S'maash stood with narrowed eyes. They were not yet finished. He scanned the ground for his shield but could not see it. He decided to summon a Bound Bow instead, but not before a second Atronach. The brothers looked for the beast and for seconds did not see him. A sudden guttural cry drew their attention to KrifAhrkDir's location. He was just above them and bearing down with an open mouth. His teeth, like spearheads, and jaws of death, came for the brothers.

They dove in opposite directions. KrifAhrkDir, with mouth full of flame, not only breathed his fire but snapped his teeth into the Atronach as well. It died just as the Dragon touched his massive feet down for a landing. A monumental quake rumbled through the mountain. The brothers were crouched on either side of the great Dragon.

S'maath slashed, powerfully. The enchanted blade dealt severe damage to the Dragon's right wing. Simultaneously, S'maash fired two Bound Arrows into the left wing. Again, the immortal Dragon growled with pain.

KrifAhrkDir replied with a swipe of his tail at S'maath, while turning his head left to exhale flame upon S'maash. Both brothers reeled from the attack. Spotting opportunity, KrifAhrkDir pounced upon S'maash. He swept him up with a lick of the tongue. Just before massive teeth brought instant death, S'maash held palms out casting Wall of Ice inside the Dragon's mouth. Icicles of magickal pain accosted the beast. The Dragon shook his head viciously, causing the Elf inside to slide about the teeth. S'maash incurred minimal damage before falling out.

S'maath recovered from the tail swipe, which had floored him, and held his blade in his left hand. With his right, he grabbed hold of a torn and bloody wing. He climbed deftly upon the beast's shoulders.

"Now brother! Now!" he called from his precarious position.

Looking up, S'maash saw an astonishing picture, a bloody-winged Dragon with head towards the heavens. Atop the Dragon, a Dark Elf clad in Malachite with sword pointed to the base of the Dragon's neck. S'maash reached out and touched KrifAhrkDir with Dragon Soul Trap. He glowed a violent purple. Seeing the change, S'maath brought himself, and his blade, down with all his might but the Dragon rolled over.

KrifAhrkDir smashed the Dark Elf warrior into the side of the cliff, his blade swept away. Enraged, S'maash ran to his injured brother with Healing Hands.

"What is this aberration? My soul is beyond Tiid, beyond time!" KrifAhrkDir called out in surprise.

"You're weak Dragon!" S'maath mocked him.

"Find your blade! I will keep him busy," S'maash instructed.

KrifAhrkDir took a few steps backwards to better position his face amongst the massive rocks. S'maash ran off to his right, summoning another Atronach with one hand and casting Wall of Ice with the other. The ice spell and Dragon's flame collided in a misty display of wavering Magicka. A few errant Fireballs pelted KrifAhrkDir's injured wing.

Meanwhile, S'maath saw a glint of moonlight reflect off his blade. After snatching it up, he charged the Dragon once more. Fearing another incident similar to the previous one, he opted for an attack below the Dragon. S'maath ducked under a wing. He firmly planted his feet. With KrifAhrkDir none the wiser, he called out.

"Again brother!" he said.

S'maash was in no position to reach out and touch the Dragon with a spell. He darted his eyes about, trying to reason the best approach while recasting Ebony Flesh. KrifAhrkDir let out a guttural laugh, stilted and broken. He then lowered his body upon S'maath. Having considered the possibility, the Elf quickly sat and rolled backwards, coming face to face with KrifAhrkDir's open maw. Wasting no time, both attacked at once, S'maath from a crouched position with his blade and KrifAhrkDir with a swipe of his head. The blade only glossed over the Dragon's scales while the Dragon's horns impacted quite heavily upon the Dark Elf.

As S'maath fell to the ground, his brother spotted the opportunity he needed. He ran over, believing the Dragon would try to eat his brother. S'maash had guessed correctly. As the Dragon opened its mouth to snatch the Dark Elf, S'maash hopped over his brother and grabbed hold of the menacing tongue, in his hands was Dragon Soul Trap. The spell worked but the Dragon clenched its jaws. An incomprehensible pain rattled S'maash. Then blackness.

S'maath screamed in emotional agony. With blade in hand, he slashed at KrifAhrkDir's throat, cutting deep beyond the scales. The Dragon's head fell to the watery ground with a terrible _thud_ and S'maash, a bloody mess, rolled out as well. S'maath spun in full circle to his right, bringing the Glass Great Sword along with his body. The blow destroyed KrifAhrkDir's right eye. The Dragon tried to step backwards but S'maath charged forward, blade pointed at the beast's forehead. Behind the power of the rushing Elf, the blade sunk deep.

"Is this what you want? I'll kill you!" the Elf screamed with tears in his eyes.

KrifAhrkDir threw his head back with a potent scream. A few flames escaped his jaws. S'maath held onto the blade, his feet braced against the Dragon's snout. He removed the blade, hopped off, landed with his back to the Dragon's chest then spun around with a forward thrust sending the blade into KrifAhrkDir's heart, up to the decorative hilt. KrifAhrkDir fell backwards, silent.

S'maath did not even care to check the Dragon. He simply ran to his brother.

"You're not done yet, S'maash," he whispered.

As he held his brother's head in his lap, he reached through S'maash's pack for the Potions of Healing they received back at the College. S'maath emptied one into his brother's mouth. With a retching gasp, S'maash coughed both blood and potion. He grasped loosely at his brother's elbow.

"Shhhh. Not yet, drink another," S'maath said, forcing more liquid into his brother's mouth.

The second potion took. S'maash rolled over and dual casted Healing. Seconds later, he was recovered well enough to stand.

"Thank you. I… I don't know what else to say," S'maash said.

"You had me worried for a second," S'maath replied.

They both looked upon the defeated Dragon. After a momentary appreciation, S'maath removed his sword from the beast.

"Did it work?" he asked.

S'maash took the fragments from his pack.

"I don't think-," he started.

A sudden vibration took hold of both the fragments of Lorkhan's Heart.

"Look!" his brother screamed.

The Dragon was breaking down before their eyes. A magickal flame burned and crackled as the powerful soul left the Dragon's mortal form. The Dragon Soul entered both halves of Lorkhan's Heart.

"But how can it be?" S'maath asked.

S'maash looked at his brother and smiled.

"Rosoleola once told me, some things simply are. There is no explanation, at least not one we can grasp," he replied.

"I suppose. I've had enough of this mountain and enough fighting for some time," S'maath said.

"Aye. To town for a drink, some food, and some rest," S'maash answered.

For another few moments, both looked upon the former KrifAhrkDir's skeleton. As a cool wind caressed their faces, they turned their backs to the Dragon and Sigrid's plunge.

**Chapter Twenty-One The Augar**

After a tale for the ages in the New Gnisis Corner Club, the Dark Elves hired a cart ride back to the College of Winterhold. The sun overhead shone brightly in the College's courtyard, reflecting their respective futures. S'maash stood from the well, before the statue of Shalidor.

"Good bye dear brother. Safe travels to you," S'maash said, embracing his kin.

S'maath patted his brother's back for a moment then took his shoulders.

"Aye. I am proud of you, as are our ancestors. May your continued success bring you happiness," S'maath replied.

The Elf warrior walked away, sun glinting off Malachite as he did. S'maash watched him disappear over the massive stone bridge. He wanted to run after him, ask him to stay a little longer. _No. That is selfish and I have much work to do._ S'maash entered the Hall of Elements. Tolfdir was providing a lecture to a new set of students. S'maash had never seen them before. It was amazing to see how quickly the people of Skyrim progressed. He stood behind the class, waiting patiently.

"So there you have it class. You are not truly invisible, you have only fooled others to your presence," Tolfdir proclaimed.

After the lecture, he approached S'maash.

"Glad to know you and your brother returned unharmed," Tolfdir said.

"Indeed. I enjoyed your explanation on Invisibility," S'maash stated.

Tolfdir looked away, modestly, but smiled.

"I assume you came to me for more than a simple lesson," Tolfdir said.

"Yes. We managed to trap KrifAhrkDir's soul into the fragments of Lorkhan's Heart but after reviewing Farengar's notes, I am at a loss. I do not know how to bring the pieces together, nor understand their link to the Daedric Heart Gem" S'maash said, perplexed.

Tolfdir shifted his stance as he took a deep breath.

"You know something?" S'maash asked.

The old man was hesitant.

"I understand your concern but I have come too far to dawdle now," S'maash added.

"Of course, forgive me. I do not have the answers you are looking for but I know what might," Tolfdir stated, looking away.

"Please tell me," S'maash implored.

"You must speak with the Augar of Dunlain. It will probably have the knowledge you seek, though I recommend this as a last resort," Tolfdir replied.

"What is this Augar and why is it a last resort?" S'maash asked.

The students had emptied out of the Hall of Elements to other areas, leaving S'maash and Tolfdir alone. The tower grew quiet and still. Seconds passed as the two looked upon one another. Finally, Tolfdir broke the silence.

"It is difficult to explain what the Augar is. Suffice it say, it was a student once…. As for it being a last resort, the Augar of Dunlain can create a rift in the mental stability of one who approaches. This is not something it does intentionally. Its power, knowledge, they are vast and as dangerous as trying to read an Elder Scroll," Tolfdir spoke gravely.

"It was a student you say?" S'maash asked.

Tolfdir grew uneasy again. Once more he shifted his balance.

"Yes. Like yourself he wanted, sought, knowledge. I am unsure of what exactly took place but an accident occurred. He did not only receive knowledge on the topic he was studying but received a general knowledge. He knows that which should not be known. In his presence, you will feel that unknowable truth swirl about you," Tolfdir maintained his grave tone.

He then took S'maash's shoulder.

"Promise me you'll be cautious," Tolfdir said then began to leave.

"Wait! Where is the Augar?" S'maash asked.

"In the Midden… beneath the College," Tolfdir answered without losing step.

He was out the door, leaving S'maash alone in the tower. Tolfdir's words, and odd behavior, left S'maash with a strange fear in the pit of his stomach. _Then I am off to the Midden._ S'maash felt it was wise to speak to others about the Midden before entering. He went to the Arcaeneum.

Urag was wiping dust from books carefully with a Linen Wrap.

"Urag, a moment please," S'maash said.

"I heard you went to fight a Dragon. Did you fight well or flee?" He asked with a smile.

"My brother and I bested the Dragon. That brings me here. I need to know something and Tolfdir suggested I look in the Midden," S'maash chose his words carefully.

Urag was taken aback.

"What could you be searching for in the Midden? That place is dangerous. I wish Tolfdir had barred entry…" Urag's voice trailed away.

"Why?" S'maash inquired as he sat by a small desk.

It was overloaded with dusty tomes. S'maash fingered at the binding of a book while Urag gathered his thoughts. They looked at one another before Urag sighed and sat at the table.

"Look, other than undead and Ice Wraiths there are… there were rituals performed. Many students died in the Midden. While I'm certain the place itself is relatively safe, the altars and diagrams down there are not," Urag stated.

"Altars and diagrams?" S'maash asked.

"Shalidor himself spent a great deal of time in the Midden. Most of his knowledge, or insights if you prefer, came from Oblivion itself. He was a great conjurer, maybe the best, but he knew when to stop. He knew it was best to leave the College in order to continue his studies. Impetuous students are not so bright.

A small group attempted one of his old Conjuration rituals, something with a Bound Dremora. It did not end well for them. I think the Dragonborn may have smoothed over some of the damage but I don't recommend going down there," Urag explained.

"So none of the dangers have to do with the Augar of Dunlain?" S'maash asked.

"By Ysmir's beard. Tolfdir told you about the Augar? You might as well try to read an Elder Scroll," Urag grumbled.

S'maath chuckled at Urag's state. He had grown surly and uncomfortable in his seat.

"Tolfdir said the same thing. Is there anyway to prepare for a meeting with the Augar?" S'maash asked.

"I doubt you'll even get to see it. It locked itself away and you can't go into its room unless it deems you worthy of its time. Go if you want but don't expect much," Urag replied.

He then stood, nodded, and returned to cleaning. S'maash was satisfied. There wasn't much to worry about, so he left to find an entrance to the Midden. After some searching, he found a trap door in the courtyard. The ladder took him into an icy cave-like structure. Various bits of stone lined the walls, like a wine cellar.

S'maash traversed a few steps then meandered passed some brick hallways. The odd skeletal remains strewn about in unrecognized patterns drew his attention. Built into one wall was a skull surrounded by bony hands. He prodded the skull with a finger. _Real enough I'm sure,_ he thought to himself before moving on. It was not long after, down a few more flights of stone steps, that he heard the familiar creaking of skeletons. Bringing Flames to his hands, he rounded a corner to see the noisemaker.

A lone skeleton turned to him, Steel Great Sword in hand, it charged awkwardly into S'maash's Flame spell. Less than two seconds and the skeleton fell to pieces, bones scattered amidst an icy floor. S'maash gave a nod of disapproval. _Shouldn't play with unlife._ He continued on.

The Midden's design was fairly simple and easy to follow. A few steel rods held aloft magick light. S'maash eventually found himself in a room with a table. Old blood spots stained the stonework beneath his feet. At the center of the room was a closed gauntlet. Four rings sat upon the fingers.

S'maash knelt before the oddity, taking a closer look. He winced and did not dare touch it. Beyond the fist was another room. S'maash stood, approached the doorway, and peeked inside. There, he saw an altar, of sorts. Almost the entire room was taken up by the round stone base. The altar was composed of round levels. Upon the smallest was a single rune, Oblivion. At the forefront of the construct was a pedestal with a Sigil Stone. A dark energy reverberated from within the bauble. Adjacent the Sigil Stone was a pull handle. S'maash shrugged at it._ Now I'm getting curious. What more in the fields of the Arcane do I know nothing of?_ But there was little time to waste.

After leaving the strange altar, S'maash finally came to a ladder leading deeper below. The lower level was similar to the previous, only a little darker, stranger. The lack of light gave the Midden Dark an ominous air. He kept his eyes peeled for more enemies but there were none. Before he knew it, he came upon a large wooden door atop a few stone steps. He reached for the handle. It did not budge.

"Is this it? Augar of Dunlain?" S'maash called out as he looked around with wonder.

A moment of silence prevailed before a whispering voice echoed.

"You may enter," the breathy voice stated.

S'maash was shocked. The sound of the voice was much more impersonal than he had anticipated. He was shocked even more so when the door opened before him. An immense light of soft blue shone upon him. A feeling of uneasiness crept into his soul.

"You're the Augar of Dunlain?" he asked.

"That is how they refer to me but you have not come all this way for such petty questions," the Augar replied.

The stilted way it spoke was the scariest facet of its existence. S'maash was able to handle the fact it was only a light and dealt well enough with the effervescent energy creeping about the tight room but the halting way of speaking was almost too much. With wide eyes, S'maash doubled his effort to remain focused.

"True. Hermaeus Mora has tasked me with capturing a Dragon Soul. I have succeeded. It is contained in these fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan. Now I am unsure of what needs doing. How am I to forge the Heart of Lorkhan?" S'maash asked.

"You have set yourself upon a path, a path your heart does not follow. Once, you sought enlightenment. Now, you seek the dark," the Augar replied.

S'maash was confused. He set his jaw as he thought about the nonsensical reply.

"One cannot follow orders of two. Azura has chosen you as her champion. Hermaeus Mora has tasked you with a quest. Should you take this task, you will fall from Azura's grace," the Augar stated.

"What do you mean? How do you know these things about me?" S'maash inquired, slightly irritated.

"Knowledge does not lie in words. It is around us," a gust of wind assaulted S'maash momentarily as the Augar spoke. "You restored the power of Azura on your quest for enlightenment. You will dissolve your bond, should you continue upon the path of darkness."

"What are these paths of which you speak?" S'maash asked.

As the exchange progressed, S'maash felt more than uneasy, he felt ill, tired.

"To be clear, you sought the truth of one's capabilities in the art of Enchanting. With Azura, you pushed beyond current limitations. Now, you seek that which changed the Chimer for eternity. The Heart of Lorkhan is not designed for knowledge of this realm. It is designed for knowledge of all realms. Like the Dwemer, you seek that which you are not a part of. Like the Elder Scrolls, the Heart of Lorkhan is from many worlds," the Augar explained.

S'maash wiped cold sweat from his face. His thoughts meandered a bit. He was not sure he understood. Straining against reason, he opened his mouth to ask a question. While seeking clarification, S'maash suddenly forgot what it was he had thought. After shaking his head and taking a deep breath, he cleared his mind.

"Are you saying forging the Heart of Lorkhan will break my bond as Azura's champion? How can that be? The task from Hermaeus Mora is unrelated," S'maash argued loudly.

The longer their exchange, the more noise, like swirling winds, emanated from the unseen. S'maash had to yell over the sounds. Furthermore, every time the Augar spoke, its voice felt louder as though it beat physically inside S'maash's skull.

"Incorrect. The paths before you cross but it is you, who must decide which to traverse for eternity. Should you forge the Heart of Lorkhan, you must erase the Daedric Heart Gem from reality. Should you choose to leave behind the path of darkness, you will never learn that which is hidden from you," the Augar said.

S'maash took a seat before the small stone well, where upon the Augar of Dunlain floated. It took everything in S'maash's soul to stay focused. He was on the verge of vomiting. A throbbing headache gripped him, like the beating of too much blood in his veins.

"How do I forge the Heart of Lorkhan?" he asked.

"During your journey to this place, you passed the Oblivion Forge. Mistakenly, it has been referred to as the Atronach Forge. Placing all the pieces inside its container will fuse the energies of the Daedric Heart Gem and the fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan.

Chaos and order, all possesses these forces, albeit unequally. The Dragon Soul has been filtered into both, though its chaos is much more prevalent. The Daedric Heart Gem contains the hatred of the Nords, whom you slaughtered. It must be purged and replace with a soul of order," the Augar's instructions thundered inside S'maash's very being.

S'maash was reeling. His head spun. His stomach convulsed. Finally, he could no longer hold back. He vomited upon the stone floor. Behind closed eyes, images swirled, concepts beyond his reach. His drive for knowledge consumed him. He had one final question.

"Where do I find a soul of order?" he asked.

"In nature," the Augar replied.

There was nothing left to ask for. S'maash crawled on hands and knees out of the room. The door shut behind him and he collapsed.

**Chapter Twenty-Two To Bring About the Gods**

A void, simple, black, all encompassing. A path of blue light appeared. From a distance, a robed figure approached. The scent of cinnamon assaulted S'maash's nostrils. He suddenly realized he was dreaming. The Mistress of Dusk and Dawn stood before him. Stars glittered behind the moving void. Azura's voice was a soft melody.

"My champion you must rally yourself or be lost in eternity," she said.

"I… I'm fine. My lady?" S'maash stammered.

"Hold fast to my visage. Yes. Look upon me. It is safe here," Azura instructed.

S'maash gazed upon her. Azura was the essence of beauty in her billowing gown, a gown of all colors. Radiance shone from behind her, from beyond her.

"Is it true, what the Augar said?" he asked.

"It is but I know my champion will not forsake me, not after the daunting task you undertook to reunite me with your plane of existence," Azura said.

A red light grew between them. It undulated then shuddered before speaking.

"Do not listen. We choose our paths even if it displeases those for whom we care," a voice announced.

It was a strange, breathy voice, like the Augar of Dunlain's. The light spoke in the same halted fashion but the voice was familiar.

"Farengar?" S'maash asked.

He was nearly brought to tears.

"Ages ago, I was the one called Farengar Secret-Fire. Now, I am simply the Emissary of Fate. The Daedric prince of Knowledge has bestowed much. Among his knowledge, is the fate of all. Your fate is your own. No one and nothing can change that," the Emissary said.

S'maash had difficulty looking at both Azura and the Emissary. Though they were both present in the same space, it was like seeing each image with a different eye.

"He's right of course, S'maash but you are my champion. Do not relegate me to Oblivion. I have only recently been able to interact with Tamriel and it was all due to your actions," Azura said with love.

S'maash was torn. He loved Azura but knowledge was his drive, his quest.

"What will happen if I choose one over the other?" S'maash asked.

"Simple really, one choice will keep you grounded but you will always regret missing the opportunity. The other choice will show you everything you desire to know but you will know more than man and mer are capable of knowing. Hermaeus Mora's knowledge is too often more than one can handle," the Emissary of Fate replied.

"Do not bother yourself with concepts beyond your grasp. Stay in my light and my shadow. Be satisfied with everything you can accomplish," Azura added.

"It is time for us both to leave you. Farewell S'maash," the Emissary said.

"Glory be upon you Dark Elf," Azura said.

S'maash snapped his eyes open. Brelyna's face was close to his.

"What?" he asked.

"Easy. We found you collapsed outside the Augar of Dunlain's door," Brelyna said.

"Yes. I figured it was best to look for you in the case that… well, this happened," Tolfdir added.

S'maash was in bed in his room. Tolfdir and Brelyna were both looking after him.

"How long have I been out?" he asked woozily.

"Just a few hours," Tolfdir replied.

"Did you see it? The Augar I mean," Brelyna asked.

S'maash made eye contact with both of them.

"I did and Azura and Farengar too," S'maash answered.

The others exchanged a look of worry.

"In a dream, that is," S'maash clarified.

"Ah," Tolfdir said.

"You should rest for a bit," Brelyna advised.

"No I've had enough rest. I need to use the Oblivion Forge to make the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash said.

Again the others exchanged a look. S'maash tried to stand out of bed but Brelyna pulled her chair closer making it difficult.

"I'm not sure that's best for you right now," she said.

S'maash sighed with aggravation as he rubbed his face.

"Listen to me, just because you helped me up here, while I was unconscious, doesn't mean I don't know what I'm saying. I gathered all the answers I needed. Now it's time to act," S'maash stated with mild aggression.

"Very well. Tell me one thing first. What is this Oblivion Forge?" Tolfdir asked.

"The Augar said it's mistakenly referred to as the Atronach Forge. I can forge the Heart of Lorkhan using it," S'maash answered.

It was obvious they were feeling him out to see if he was of sound mind. He eyed them, not with disdain, simply annoyed.

"I see," Tolfdir said, nodding to Brelyna.

"What will you do with the Heart of Lorkhan?" Brelyna asked.

S'maash shook his head. He had not thought that far ahead.

"I don't know. Farengar's journal did not say what was to happen next," S'maash looked to Tolfdir as he spoke. "You gave me Keening. Where is Sunder?"

Tolfdir nodded slowly as he pondered. Brelyna looked him over as he did so.

"I do not know. Perhaps you should've asked the Augar of Dunlain," Tolfdir commented.

S'maash cocked his head a bit and narrowed his eyes as he looked at Tolfdir. _A hint of sarcasm?_ He did not know why Tolfdir held back veiled animosity._ Perhaps I'm imagining._

"I asked everything I could. There were no more questions left. I feel as though I might have died, had I stayed a second longer," S'maash said.

"Died? No. Being around the Augar of Dunlain cannot kill you but it can drive you mad. I simply wonder why you did not have the forethought of asking the Augar about Sunder's location," Tolfdir clarified.

"I suppose the entirety of this ordeal eluded me while in the Augar's presence," S'maash answered.

"I still don't understand what all is being accomplished here," Brelyna complained.

Tolfdir looked at her then S'maash. He raised a white, bushy, eyebrow questioningly.

"It's difficult to answer. I have before me the ability to discover everything any mage has ever wanted to know. With the Heart of Lorkhan, Keening, and Sunder, we can truly learn what became of he Dwemer," S'maash answered with excitement.

"But I thought you only wished to expand your knowledge of Enchanting," Brelyna stated.

"What better way than to contact those who could craft such items as Keening, a blade with three enchantments, or Volendrung. Both these creations are so potent they cannot be disenchanted," S'maash answered.

Tolfdir had folded his arms across his chest and watched S'maash as he spoke.

"But you have failed to wonder if it was the Dwemer who crafted it," Tolfdir stated.

S'maash blinked. It was true. There was no certainty that the Dwemer did not find them already crafted and simply learned their use.

"Very well, but they should know," he rebutted.

"They may not tell you, nor might you be able to understand if they did, and all this is under the premise that you find them," Tolfdir added, jabbing his point further.

"Why are you acting like this?" S'maash asked.

Tolfdir sighed.

"I am not acting like anything, S'maash. You have just gone through several great ordeals, the likes of which many men could never even consider. I just pray you slow down, lest you burn away like parchment over a fire pit," Tolfdir said.

S'maash looked at the old mage. He returned a grandfatherly gaze. The old man was not angry, nor was he belittling S'maash, he was simply looking out for a student. In the grand scope of recent events, S'maash had believed himself a master of the Arcane arts. In truth, he was only scratching the surface.

S'maash resigned himself to resting in bed for a few moments. Tolfdir excused himself to attend to College matters. Brelyna stayed with S'maash for a while. Eventually Zolara entered the room.

"Oh there you are," he said to Brelyna.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I was…. Is he alright?" Zolara asked.

"I'm fine Argonian. How were the samples you recovered?" S'maash asked.

"Excellent and that brings me back to why I'm here. Brelyna, the results on our experiment will be ready soon," Zolara said.

"Very well. S'maash, make sure you come to us before you choose to forge the Heart of Lorkhan," Brelyna said.

"Of course," S'maash replied.

Once the others left him, he stayed in bed, with hands folded behind his head. Staring at the stones in the ceiling was somewhat relaxing especially after all the oddities he had seen too recently._ I would very much like to stay in Azura's good graces. Furthermore, Tolfdir brought to light some excellent points. But what am I really doing here? What was my original goal and is it not wise to alter one's path if opportunity for growth is provided?_

_Perhaps… but I would not like to make the change into whatever the Augar of Dunlain and the Emissary of Fate have become. I need to learn more about what happened on Red Mountain, as I do not wish to disappear from this reality either. Maybe I should shy away. I can still learn much by experimentation with the Daedric Heart Gem after all. I could also travel back and forth to Cyrodiil and continue studying Ayleid ruins…._

S'maash rolled onto his side. His Arcane Enchanter stood a few feet away. Suddenly, he remembered wanting to know how enchantments truly worked. Passing up the prospect of asking the Dwemer was not something he could do. _Keep in mind they might not know. Even worse, this entire thing may not play out in a similar fashion…. I suppose anything could happen._

With closed eyes, S'maash reveled in thought. All possible outcomes were present, all outcomes he contrived._ But what of possibilities I have failed to consider?_ He stood out of bed, took food and drink then left for the Arcaeneum.

Opening the door out to the courtyard, S'maash bumped into Faralda.

"Oh. I was just coming for you," she said.

"Yes?" He asked.

"A courier came by to deliver this message to you," Faralda said, holding parchment.

S'maash took the note. It contained a simple message. S'maash looked at Faralda, mouth slightly agape.

"What is it?" she asked, intrigued by his expression.

"Aicantar finished translation on the old Dwemer books I found," S'maash replied.

"What do they say?" she asked.

"He didn't say. I'm supposed to meet with him for discussion," S'maash answered.

Faralda shrugged and left him alone. S'maash believed it was more than excellent timing, so he hurried to the outskirts of town and hired a ride to Markarth. Night had already settled over Winterhold. The cart master made a few stops along the way to resupply. First they rested in Whiterun then in Morthal. Shortly after, they arrived in Markarth.

It had been the better part of two days since leaving Winterhold. Fortunately, the weather had been mild, allowing for quick travel. Upon reaching Markarth, S'maash ran through the city of stone to Understone Keep. It had been a few days since he received the letter, meaning it had been close to a week since it was sent. Aicantar was sitting before his lab, studying a piece of Dwemer Scrap Metal.

"Aicantar. I received your letter. What have you found?" S'maash asked the Altmer.

"Yes of course. I must tell you, this is a most intriguing discovery. Would that my uncle was still with us, rest his soul. The tomes appear to be logs, notes, and observations made by Kagrenac's assistant. So far as we knew, Kagrenac worked alone but it is plausible he had an assistant. Most masters of any trade-," Aicantar was babbling.

"Please, the discovery," S'maash said.

"Apologies, I get carried away sometimes. Yes, Kagrenac was the… Sound Smith, if you will. A great deal of Dwemer technology deals in simple reverberations. As you no doubt are aware, what with being a native of Morrowind. Stories indicate the Heart of Lorkhan landed where Red Mountain resides," Aicantar started.

S'maash nodded as he took a seat. It was evident this was going to be a long explanation.

"Well, the appearance of the Nerevarine, the reincarnation of General Nerevar, who battled General Dumac before Anumidium, resurfaced to battle Dagoth Ur, formerly Lord Dagoth who was friend to the Tribunal. In order to defeat Dagoth Ur, the Nerevarine sought the Tribunal's relics, or more aptly, the Dwemer relics: Keening, Sunder, and Wraith Guard.

As it were, the tools, Keening and Sunder, were not mere weapons. They were tools of sounds, Tonal Weapons. The inherent magickal resonations allowed the Nerevarine to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan. How the fragments found their way into Skyrim is unknown but logical seeing as the Dwemer had ancient cities here, and by extension many Dunmer have found their way here as well," Aicantar continued.

S'maash grew more and more fascinated with the tale.

"Wraith Guard, a gauntlet of sorts, was necessary to wield the Tonal Weapons, lest they drain the life of the handler," Aicantar said.

S'maash interrupted at that juncture, "but I have Keening. It deals no damage to me."

Aicantar was taken aback. He paced for a few seconds before taking a seat on a Dwemer bench, next to S'maash.

"Then it has grown weak over the years. Or, it only drains life when utilized. At any rate, the use of the same Tonal Weapons, and Lorkhan's Heart, was required for the completion of Anumidium, the Dwemer God. It was to be a replacement for Lorkhan.

According to the logs you recovered, the assistant, who's name does not appear in the text, wrote that Kagrenac had several theories. Because Gods exist on many planes, there was no way to build one on our plane of existence. You may recall the creation of Numidium, before the Warp in the West. While it was similar to Anumidium, the Empire lacked the Heart of Lorkhan, using instead the Mantella, a sort of Soul Gem," Aicantar explained.

"Like the Daedric Heart Gem," S'maash whispered.

"Come again?" Aicantar asked.

So S'maash obliged by giving an explanation, bringing Aicantar up to speed.

"Fascinating. Yes, this brings me to another point. Numidium could never have been a God as the Mantella did not contain an immortal soul. Your fragments, however, do. You have been given all the knowledge required to reforge the immortal Heart of Lorkhan.

The problem you face, depending on your course of action, is the same as Kagrenac's. To forge a God, he must be forged on all planes of existence. In his studies, Kagrenac found ways to traverse into other planes. Here, we have a discordance in timelines.

Traveling between planes is not always a matter of seconds, minutes, or hours. There is a possibility, as with the reemergence of Alduin, that the Dwemer, to themselves mind you, have only just crossed into another of plane of existence to forge Anumidium there as well," Aicantar said.

"Then our destruction of the Heart of Lorkhan here would have had an impact on their success," S'maash commented.

Aicantar smiled.

"Yes. You follow along quite well. So, according to Kagrenac's assistant, the Tonal weapons were fashioned, not to create Anumidium, nor to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan, but to travel through planes in order to accomplish the forging of Anumidium. Unfortunately, the Dwemer left during a tumultuous time. Shortly after, Dagoth Ur found a way to draw power from the Heart of Lorkhan. Because it contained the immortal soul of Lorkhan, he found methods to draw upon immortality.

After his defeat, at the hands of the Nerevarine, there was no way to continue for us, the Dunmer, or even the Dwemer, a creation of a new God… until now," Aicantar stopped speaking as he observed S'maash.

"But I have no intentions of creating a God," S'maash replied.

"Irrelevant. What you have before you is an opportunity," Aicantar stated.

"To what end?" S'maash asked.

"Any. You could do as Dagoth Ur and draw upon the power of immortality. You could create a God. You could do as the Tribunal and increase your powers tremendously and become a living God as Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil, or… Or you may restore the Heart of Lorkhan for the intended use Kagrenac seems to have had in mind," Aicantar said.

"To travel between planes of existence?" S'maash asked.

Aicantar nodded slowly.

"Can we not already traverse the planes of Oblivion?" S'maash asked.

"Certainly, but these are lesser planes of capricious demons. The whole of Oblivion, that is to say, all the planes intertwined are but one plane, the plane of Oblivion. Mankar Camoran believed Tamriel was a portion of that plane and he might have been correct but what you have before you, is the opportunity to open doors to all planes, the planes of the Gods themselves," Aicantar explained.

Silence prevailed throughout the Dwemer stonework, beneath Markarth. The two mer sat looking at each other without so much as uttering a sound. S'maash was first to stir.

"What do you think?" S'maash asked.

Aicantar exhaled with a subtle shrug.

"Ultimately the choice is yours. No one can force you to restore the Heart of Lorkhan and I do not know the locations of Sunder nor Wraith Guard. Nor do I know if they still function as they should after all these long years. Nor do I know how to use them… For all my knowledge, there is still much to learn. So far as I understand, if you restore the Heart of Lorkhan, you will have appeased Hermaeus Mora. Should any force at our fingertips know the answers to my questions, it will be him," Aicantar said.

Minutes passed by during which neither mer spoke. The gravity of the scenario playing out before their eyes brought upon them an unbearable weight. S'maash rapped his fingers upon the Alchemy table.

"My final peace… should you choose to continue on this path, and you do bring it to its end, you will bestow upon the whole of Tamriel, a chance of meeting the Gods, a chance to traverse planes beyond our current comprehension. You will, however, also be inviting those outside forces upon our plane. As the ancient Nords did with their reading of the Elder Scroll at the Throat of the World you, you might be the cause of terrible disasters," Aicantar finished and left.

S'maash stayed sitting upon the bench for a few moments. _A ride back to Winterhold should provide me with plenty of time to think all this through._ Finally, with a deep inhalation, he stood. Somehow, he felt as though his soul had been drained from the exchange. He dragged his feet out of Understone Keep. The morning sun shone into his eyes. He shielded them with his hand while he stood before steps, leading down into Markarth proper.

"Excuse me. I think this is for you," a young imperial spoke.

The young man wore the clothes of a courier, red and grays with a fine hat on his head. He handed S'maash a piece of parchment. He looked it over. It read,

_Blasted court wizard. You're supposed to be in Whiterun when I need you. We have an issue here and I need to speak with you. Get to Whiterun. I don't care what you're doing. Thorald, Jarl of Whiterun._

S'maash heaved a sigh, nodded to the courier, tipped him with one Septim, and hired a cart to Whiterun.

**Chapter Twenty-Three Interruptions**

S'maash arrived in Whiterun during the middle of a chilly night. He hugged his blue robes tightly over his armor. A few guards stood watch, both inside and outside the city walls.

"Destruction magick's fine. Just don't go burning down any buildings," a guard said.

"Never my intention," S'maash replied with a nod.

He pressed on, down the stone roads, to Dragonsreach. Inside, warm fires burned brightly as an elderly maid swept the wooden floors of the palace. Thorald, in his magnificent finery, sat upon his throne, at the far end of the room. He stood when S'maash entered. Once they were close, Thorald addressed his court wizard.

"Glad to see your return. I'll begin immediately as there is little time to waste," he said.

S'maash nodded. The fires warmed him quickly. He listened intently.

"Word has spread like wild fire that Necromages have taken residence in Strongmouth Cave. I don't like the thought of their evil machinations taking place inside my city walls. Their presence threatens my people," Thorald announced.

"What would you have me do?" S'maash asked, slightly befuddled.

"I spoke to the Companions. They are willing to fight these Necromages but I fear their skill in blade and armor alone isn't enough of an effort. The Harbinger, Vilkas, suggested I speak to my court wizard. My decision is for you to speak directly with him in Jorrvaskr. See to what he requires. That is my order S'maash," Thorald said.

"As you wish… I hope this can all be handled with haste. I-," S'maash was saying.

"Yield not to haste, mage. No doubt you have your own research, much as Farengar did, but I need you to help the Companions solve this problem without incident. Is that understood?" Thorald asked.

"Aye. I will go see the Harbinger then," S'maash replied.

With no time to rest, S'maash left Dragonsreach and commenced the short walk to Jorrvaskr, mead hall and resting place of the Companions. The ancient wooden building had the appearance of a capsized boat. Great long wooden boards lined its roof. A few shields hung in decoration. S'maash entered through large, wooden, doors.

Inside Jorrvaskr were three large wooden tables, lining a fire pit where meat cooked. The aroma sent S'maash's stomach rumbling. Three seasoned warriors eyed him with curiosity. One, a gorgeous woman with trim figure and thick auburn hair approached him.

"Are we lost Dunmer?" she asked.

"Not in the least. I am the Jarl's court wizard, S'maash Ilteriel." he introduced himself.

"Come Aela, finish your story. Then I will have words with this wizard," a scarred man in heavy but strange Steel Armor said.

The woman, Aela, walked back to her seat and beckoned for S'maash to sit as well. Then she continued her story. The mead hall was alive with revelry that night.

"So Farkas had tracked the Frost Trolls back to their lair. His brilliant idea was to charge in, sword swinging. I told him the best plan of attack was to sneak in, making little noise and taking the Trolls by surprise. You should have seen the look on his face, yes that one," she said chuckling.

The third warrior, obviously named Farkas, had long, thick hair. It was graying a bit but he seemed every bit the powerful warrior. He too wore Steel Armor, though it was a more common type, worn by many adventurers.

"I don't know why you have to tell it like that," Farkas commented.

His voice was frightening and powerful but it reminded S'maash of Balimund and he smiled. Aela seemed rather boisterous in her demeanor as she spoke and Vilkas appeared calm and collected, the leader or Harbinger, as it were. Aela continued.

"Naturally, I explained that since we arrived at their lair it was likely that more Trolls were inside. That convinced him to follow my lead. Anyway, we skulked into their icy home and slaughtered a half dozen with relative ease," she finished.

The warriors enjoyed a good belly laugh. After calming down, Vilkas turned his attention to S'maash. A crackling of embers broke the silent stare of Vilkas's gaze.

"So Thorald sent you to lend a hand with these Necromancers? You've dealt with them before?" Vilkas asked.

S'maash stirred.

"No but he feels steel will not be enough to handle them. I'm unclear as to what help I might provide but I am not untrained. You might like to know my brother and I just recently killed KrifAhrkDir, the Dragon atop Sigrid's Plunge," S'maash said confidently.

The warriors around the table eyed each other. S'maash believed they may not have taken his account seriously.

"If you can handle a Dragon a few Necromancers should be easy work for you, Dark Elf," Aela said.

"Come now Aela, these are two very different opponents. But she makes a good point. What was it? S'maash?" Vilkas asked.

"Aye. If we are to eliminate this evil influence we shall have to discover why they took residence in Strongmouth Cave. Furthermore, it is important to know what sort of powers they wield and to what end they are scheming," S'maash commented.

"He talks like you brother," Farkas said impressed.

Vilkas looked to Farkas and nodded.

"Then I will tell you what we have discovered. There are at least two dozen of them and countless undead. They keep dogs as well. That abates our efforts to sneak in. We have the numbers to charge in but it is unwise. Should one of us fall… their evil magick can resurrect the fallen to fight for them. One of us as an undead abomination would be a travesty and a desecration," Vilkas raised his voice in anger as he spoke.

"Noted. The dogs could be lured away with meat. Once the few, I assume a few, that stand guard are dealt with, we can move in. Are any of you familiar with Strongmouth Cave?" S'maash inquired.

"I am a little," Aela replied.

"Good. I'm also a healer and an enchanter. At the very least I can provide you all with a few pieces of equipment to help resist the forces of magicka," S'maash said.

Suddenly, he was struck with a question. _Wonder if there's an enchantment to help resist Soul Trap or other Conjuration spells… The Resist Magicka enchantment only seems to apply to Destruction._

"A good start," Farkas commented.

"Aye. Aela will lead us into battle tomorrow morning. We will kill their watchdogs first then move inside the cave. You need to know… they appear to be working on some kind of undead golem… an Undead Atronach," Vilkas claimed.

_That's something…_ S'maash thought.

"Very well. I shall return once the sun rises with rings and amulets for us all. Aela, Farkas, Vilkas, what weapons do you wield?" S'maash asked.

"A bow," Aela replied.

"My brother and I both prefer Skyforge Steel Great Swords," Farkas answered.

"Then I will have some surprises for you all. Good night," S'maash said and left.

He jogged back to Dragonsreach where he informed Thorald of the plan. Then he took to his Arcane Enchanter. After a few hours rest, he jogged back to Jorrvaskr and met the warriors outside.

"These are for you," S'maash said handing out gifts.

The Companions were appreciative but in a serious mood.

"If we're all set it's time," Aela said sternly.

S'maash followed behind them as they walked towards Whiterun's gates. Farkas and Vilkas made much noise in their heavy gear. S'maash noticed Aela's equipment looked rather heavy as well. She, however, moved with a degree of litheness. Moments later they were standing outside of Whiterun, a morning sun shone over the horizon.

It was a balmy morning with light winds. The extensive grasslands of Whiterun hold swayed with the wind. The Companions trudged over and around some small streams and ponds. After a few hours, and little discussion, Aela came to a halt by a small hill. A few gray rocks were scattered about the green mound.

"Strongmouth Cave is only minutes from here. Farkas, the meat please," she said.

Farkas opened his travel pack, producing a few pieces of Raw Beef. Aela took them and moved slowly. Every few dozen paces, she dropped some food as she approached Strongmouth Cave.

"While she lures the dogs out I want to tell you something," Vilkas started.

"Go on," S'maash replied.

"We were tasked with solving this problem and the Companions honor their deals. We appreciate your help but we will take the forefront of battle. You are welcome to join the fray but don't feel compelled to try and keep up with us," Vilkas said smiling.

S'maash smiled back. He looked at the brothers.

"It was with my brother that I battled that Dragon. How long have you two been Companions?" S'maash asked.

"Our father had us join years ago. We've spent our whole lives as Companions. I'm not the brightest in the bunch so I always trust my brother," Farkas replied.

"Fighting is in our blood. Honor in our hearts. We were meant to follow in the footsteps of Ysgramor," Vilkas added.

Aela returned.

"It's all set. The dogs should smell the meat soon and come running out. Once they come close, we'll slay them then move into the entrance," she stated.

So they waited. Mere moments passed before hungry mutts came forth from the cave's entrance. The shaggy breeds of Skyrim, as the rest of its animals, were thick, hearty creatures. Dark, heavy, fur protected them from cold nights and their stock kept them safe from predator attacks, unless those predators were the Companions.

Aela took her Elven Bow, nocked a Steel Arrow, and fired at one dog. The arrow soared through the air before striking the dog in its sternum. With a muffled whine, it died. The other dogs perked up. They sniffed about as they searched for danger. Slowly, they fanned out as Aela picked them off, five in total.

"Excellent shield sister," Farkas commented.

"To Strongmouth's entrance," she replied.

They moved carefully over the terrain. A welling up of power visibly took over their demeanor. They were more than ready for battle. They hungered for it. S'maash had never witnessed eyes like theirs, so determined. Neither his brother nor the other members of the Reyda Tong, though very brave and capable, exuded the sort of confidence washing over the Companions. S'maash was doubtless victory was already assured. He followed.

The cave entrance appeared to be carved out of the landscape. Two wooden posts supported strange banners. The black and purple cloths whipped in the wind. Upon them was the same design S'maash had seen in the Midden, a Skull surrounded by bony hands. They entered.

"It's dark in here," Farkas commented.

"Of course it is, ice for brains," Aela whispered back rudely.

"Would you like a magickal light? Or should we resort to Sneaking in the darkness?" S'maash inquired.

"I can move well enough with little light, just follow me," Aela answered.

The group of four skulked very carefully. From what little light penetrated through cracks and crags in the cavern, they saw brown and gray rocks scattered about. Some of the walls were supported with massive beams to prevent a cave in. The path from the entrance into deeper portions of the cave was very winding. Shortly after, they came upon wooden steps, built into the natural floor and leading down at a steep decline. An orange glow wavered against the cave wall, far below them.

"There's plenty of light down there," Aela said.

S'maash remained behind them, Aela at the lead and Farkas behind her. Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, she slowly reached the wall and peeked around the corner. Then she motioned for the rest to follow. S'maash followed suit. They rounded a left turn. It was there that a brazier burned brightly, also on the left side of the stony corridor. A few dozen paces away, a large tapestry hung over an alcove dug into the walls, a Skull with hands on it as well.

In the alcove, beneath the Necromancy symbol, was a Burial Urn and a few purple flowers, Nightshade. Aela then needed to decide to move left or right, down the new passages. She chose the right, after a few seconds of deliberation. Again the cave grew dark. A groan bled through the halls and they all came to an abrupt halt.

"Get that damn Breton over here," a voice echoed from around a corner.

Another groan was heard. Aela motioned to continue. The path she chose curved right again. The four warrior stopped short, huddled against as wall, as they peered into a large chamber. Two men clad in black robes were leading a glowing person.

S'maash was familiar enough with resurrection spells. The person had an eerie, indigo light about him. From far away, he appeared to be an old Breton in dirty, ragged, clothes. The other two, the Necromages, were ensconced in their dark attire.

"Go patrol the cave!" one man yelled.

The Breton replied with a groan. He then ambled about, towards the Companions.

"This new spell doesn't seem to work very well does it?" one Necromancer asked.

"No, at least not all the time. Hopefully, we can perfect it soon enough," the other replied.

Aela fired an arrow into the Breton. It stuck clean between the eyes. The Breton fell to the ground as a glowing pile of cinders.

"Who's there?" the Necromage yelled.

He turned quickly, only to see his former Zombie was nothing more than ash. The two men looked to each other then cast some sort of protection spell as they began their search for intruders. Their bodies glowed with a subtle light, making them overly easy to see. Aela fired an arrow at each of them before they ever discovered who the intruders were. Both Necromages died instantly.

"Well that takes care of two," Vilkas remarked with a soft chuckle.

Again S'maash was certain his help wasn't needed. He began to question why Thorald pulled him from his important task._ Perhaps there is more danger in here than I am aware of,_ he thought. So they continued into the large chamber. It was roundish, a natural room inside the cave. A few old wooden tables, Alchemy Tables, Arcane Enchanters, shelves, and many books lied about the chamber. It was an obvious study area, used by the forces of evil. As the Companions searched for the next path, S'maash saw a blue book.

He read the contents. _Delyla believes this new spell she crafted, Black Command as she calls it, will allow complete reign over the faculties of the undead. For now, we still bother with ambushing traders and travelers, killing them, and reviving them. I hope soon enough we can attack this plan with more vigor._

S'maash wondered about the implications. He was already aware of the Undead Atronach they were working on but it seemed they had a larger plan in mind. _Whoever this Delyla is, she is obviously their leader. Perhaps we should try to catch her alive._

"Vilkas," S'maash whispered.

Vilkas came close before answering, "what is it?"

S'maash showed him the book. Vilkas read it rather quickly then stood pensively.

"Do you think we should take her alive?" S'maash asked.

"I don't," Vilkas replied.

The Nord turned and walked back to the others, who were rounding a corner. S'maash stood there, feeling rebuffed for a moment, before catching up to them. Aela led them to a large crevice in the cavern. No end below was visible. A series of wooden bridges strung about before them. Hewn from posts, large bridges were supported by thick ropes and attached to stairs, or other support beams. Paths both higher above them and below them were available. Aela looked carefully over the suspension bridges.

"We'll move down," she whispered.

S'maash gripped her wrist and pointed to a few Necromancers who were descending the bridges and stairs from above. She nodded in accordance with a wince. Whether she was annoyed at herself or S'maash was inconsequential, they had company. Vilkas and Farkas took off like running Sabre Cats. They both drew their swords and attacked the Necromancers.

"You'll never end our efforts!" a Necromage yelled.

The other casted Chain Lightning, striking both brothers with purple arcs of magicka. Next, the one who had yelled, summoned a Flame Atronach. Vilkas reached the first Necromage and ran him through with no effort.

"I'm going to cut you down," Vilkas yelled.

Farkas pushed passed his brother and climbed some stairs to reach the one who had summoned the Atronach.

"You're makin' me angry," Farkas called as he ran.

Before Farkas reached his target, Aela fired an arrow into the summoned creature.

"Enough of this," she muttered.

S'maash stood by, with folded arms, appreciating the battle unfold. Once Vilkas pushed his opponent off his blade, he followed after Farkas. During their attack, the Atronach released a few Fire Bolts. Another arrow from Aela's bow struck the conjured demon and Farkas ran into it, bashing with the hilt of his weapon. He didn't even stop to attack, nor was his momentum slowed. Farkas just pushed through and cleaved the fleeing Necromage. He let out a dying scream before hitting the ground.

"They never knew what hit 'em," Farkas said.

The death of the summoner caused a break in the ritual holding the demon bound to their plane of reality. The Atronach was banished to Oblivion and the brothers returned to Aela.

"Very nicely done," S'maash congratulated them.

They pressed, on towards the depths of Strongmouth Cave.

**Chapter Twenty-Four A Friend in Darkness**

The Companions cut their way through a handful of reanimated dogs, men, and mer during their descent into the cave's depths. A previously undiscovered Nord ruin awaited them. They gathered before half rotted, immense, wooden doors and planned their next move.

"This cave seems to harbor an ancient ruin," Aela stated.

"Aye, one I had not known existed," Vilkas added.

S'maash eyed the Necromantic symbols adorning both doors.

"It would seem they have found an ideal place to resurrect their unholy army," S'maash commented.

"An awful desecration of the great Nords of Skyrim. Fallen warriors and heroes alike belong in Sovngarde, not roaming old halls as undead," Farkas said.

"Let us not waste time," Aela said, pushing the doors open.

A large, decorative stone room sat before them. Smoothed walls, lined with candles and braziers shone. The opening of the large doors drew the attention of the many inhabitants unliving within. The creaking of old bones turned to meet the Companions. Several Skeletons grasped their axes, hammers, and blades. The group of four spread out.

"I will destroy you," Aela yelled.

Clashing of steel, and crashing bones striking stone, erupted. It was a relatively simple battle as the Skeletons were no match for the Companions, or S'maash. The Dark Elf wielded dual Icy Spears, sending shards of ice into his opponents. Skeletons exploded from magickal impacts. The Companions, favoring steel, hacked and slashed their way through. Farkas spun like a mad dervish as he brought all his girth behind his blades in horizontal slashes.

Vilkas, surprisingly quick as well, ran to one Skeleton, ducked beneath a swing from opposing sword, butted the undead in the jaw then cleaved it. Without so much as slowing, he ran to the next, side stepped and swung overhead three times, leaving nothing of the former enemy but Bone Meal. Aela fired a few arrows as well. In mere seconds, the group of four vanquished a dozen undead.

"Good work team. Now, we search this place," Aela ordered.

"I have a feeling there's trouble ahead," Vilkas remarked.

Without regrouping, each man went about their own way. The large room harbored many, thick, pillars. The pillars had alcoves carved into all four sides, where the Skeletons likely resided before the battle commenced. Adorning the pillars, were more candles. Far ahead of them, at the end of the room, was the only passage. They convened and moved forward.

Before long, the ruin gave way to the natural stone of the cavern. Some tight corridors led the Companions to a group of Necromages. Having heard the approach of the Companions, they were ready for battle. With protection spells in place, several reanimated corpses, and summoned Atronachs of all kinds, another battle ensued.

"I'll rip your heart out!" Vilkas screamed, charging like a steel bull into battle.

Again the group fanned out, each choosing an enemy to battle. S'maash summoned a Flame Atronach of his own while throwing up Ebony Flesh. Fire Bolts, Icy Spears, and Chain lightning rained throughout the stone chamber. From the far end, sitting upon a throne of bone, a man, fully clad in Steel Plate stood. From the slit in his winged helmet, an ominous red glow emerged. He drew an Ebony Sword, curved and wicked. In his other hand, he held a round Steel Shield. He did not enter the fray but observed.

S'maash covered the ground with Wall of Ice, freezing a few reanimated men. He then drew his sword in one hand while firing Icy Spears with the other. A few Necromages spouted insults as they unleashed their spells of Destruction.

"Time to die hero," one called out.

Farkas squared off with an Ice Atronach, the frozen golem stood eight feet in height. It brought clubbed arms down with a mighty stilted movement, too slow for the fast warrior. Farkas side stepped, hacked into the Atronach's right leg, brought his blade back overhead and swung down with all his weight. The Atronach stumbled back and he ran it all the way through. It was banished, back to Oblivion.

Fire Bolts crashed into his back. He turned and charged at a Flame Atronach. Aela saw out of the corner of her eye. She fired arrows at the Necromage who had summoned it. His death ended the magickal summons and the Flame Atronach was banished before Farkas reached it.

Grunts and war cries prevailed as the Companions dismantled the Necromancers' advances.

"I'll cleave you in twain!" Vilkas yelled, felling another Necromage.

His blade was red with blood. As he spun to strike another of the undead, the blood splattered onto nearby shelving. During Vilkas's onslaught, S'maash ran to an enemy, grasped his robes with his left hand and thrust blade deep into the man's neck. Removing his sword, he moved on to the next undead. He fired an Icy Spear from his hand but the undead moved at angles. S'maash followed with a strike from his sword but the enemy moved again. He was shocked to see the opponent move so quickly. The others seemed to have some trouble as well.

While Destruction spells crashed against walls, tables, and shelving some struck the group of four. Effects of drain Magicka and Stamina slowed their assault. More Necromages and undead came into the room from sights unseen.

"Where are they coming from?" Aela yelled, unleashing more arrows into the fray.

"I can't tell. Just keep cutting away," Farkas yelled back.

The frozen spells were slowing down the Companions as they worked to fend off the attacks. S'maash, battling two quick undead Nords and defending against the pelting from dual Ice Spikes, found himself against a wall. His only defense, with no more Magicka reserves, was to block undead fists as he cut into the enemy. Things took a turn for the worse when the Necromages summoned more Atronachs.

Fearing the worst, S'maash broke from the battle and ran along side the wall, behind him. He rummaged quickly through his pack to remove a blue Potion of Magicka. He drank it while running over to Aela, who was getting swarmed.

"Aela!" he called to announce his help.

With Healing hands, he kept her alive. With his other hand, he swung at a nearby Necromancer, landing a strike to his face. His death ended the battle between Vilkas, a Storm Atronach, and a Flame Atronach. Freed from danger, Aela and Vilkas joined Farkas. Together they cut through a few more Necromages, finally returning the tide to their favor.

Magickal ice covered the floor and walls, a soft glow emanated from the former spells. The three Companions split up once more. The man in Steel Plate then entered the fray. He stomped with purpose, beyond a few undead, to Farkas's rear. With a mighty bash from his shield, he sent the powerful Nord to the ground.

"Ugh, what the?" Farkas asked as he reached for his blade.

The man stepped down hard onto Farkas's wrist, sending an excruciating pain up his arm. He screamed as he rolled onto his back. The attacker was bringing his own blade down to finish Farkas when an arrow from Aela's bow stopped him. The arrow stuck out of his right shoulder. Faltering only for a second, he provided Farkas enough time to recover his sword.

"Durro!" Vilkas yelled after felling another Necromage.

The plated warrior stopped his assault on Farkas. Vilkas ran over to his brother, who engaged Durro in battle. At that time, S'maash felt cold claws around his throat and froze.

"Eh heh heh. Khajiit has claimed this one," a voice whispered into his ears.

S'maash, while watching the three companions engage Durro, felt the soft fur and whiskers of the Khajiit upon his ear. He brought an Icy Spear to the ready, in hopes of defense.

"This one feels your cold palm. You should not be so quick to act. J'zargo is helping," the Khajiit said.

A flash of recognition assaulted S'maash. _Isn't that the instructor of Conjuration at the College?_ he wondered.

"Observe as your friends fight one of their own. Let J'zargo take you to Delyla," J'zargo said, easing his claw away from S'maash's throat.

"What's happening? Why are you here?" S'maash asked, astonished.

As their conversation ensued, the Companions felled all the Necromages and undead to give their full attention to Durro who, with relative ease, dodged, blocked, and counter attacked the warriors. He was seemingly unstoppable. The Companions fought as one force, never stepping in each other's way. Clamor of steel rang throughout the chamber.

"Who is Delyla?" S'maash asked, facing the Khajiit in Necromancer's robes.

"She is the leader of these Necromages," J'zargo answered.

"And you?" S'maash asked.

"This one has infiltrated. Your friends have their hands full but J'zargo will take you to Delyla. To help your friends assure victory, you must slay her," J'zargo explained.

He took S'maash by the wrist and led him into the shadows, where a hidden passage awaited. J'zargo tugged a previously ensconced pull chain. A hidden door was revealed after sliding stone gave way.

"What's going here?" S'maash asked as he followed.

The clamor of battle ebbed away as the two progressed down a pitch-black corridor. The Khajiit had no trouble seeing due to his Night Eye ability, one all of the cat people possessed.

"Delyla is a Vampire from ancient times. She has changed names over the many years but not her strategy," J'zargo said.

S'maash kept a hand upon the Khajiit's shoulder as he followed. He could not see a thing beyond blackness.

"Are you working with the College?" S'maash inquired.

"Yes, J'zargo is always trying to achieve success. Heh heh heh, he has many tricks up his sleeves, but J'zargo alone, cannot defeat this Vampire… she has control of many minds," J'zargo said, ominously.

S'maash grew confused as he continued walking carefully.

"Tell me everything," he demanded.

"Not long ago the Dawnguard arrived to slay an emerging Vampire threat," J'zargo started.

"Dawnguard?" S'maash interrupted.

"A legion of so-called Vampire slayers. But they were imbeciles compared to J'zargo. They unwittingly unleashed the daughter of the Vampire Lord. It was her blood they needed to bring about the prophecy. Had they left her entombed, no threat would have manifested. Worse, they aided this woman, this Vampire, by bringing her to her father, the Vampire Lord. You would think they might have killed her on the spot. J'zargo still does not understand why they did not.

After helping her, the Dawnguard did manage to keep the Vampire Lord from his plans but their arrogance led them to believe Skyrim was safe. J'zargo prefers the warm sands of Elswyer but Skyrim is home now. Uncovering a new threat, J'zargo took his information before the Archmage. Tolfdir told this one to infiltrate the Necromages as they revered this Delyla," J'zargo explained.

"The Dawnguard sound ridiculous… but how is all this related?" S'maash asked.

"Yes, J'zargo will explain. Delyla is not simply a Vampire but an Elder Vampire. She is like the Vampire Lord the Dawnguard fought but she is much wiser, from a different clan, and much older. While Harkon wanted to blot the sun from the sky of Tamriel, Delyla knew it was a stupid plan. No sun means no food for the living. No food means no living, which means no food for the Vampires, hehe heh.

Delyla planned, instead, to subjugate the minds of Conjurors, instill a need for them to revere her. As she doles out potent spells of Conjuration to some, she feeds on others. They have been tricked into believing she will give them unlife and limitless potential but she only feeds to bolster her own powers. Because she is immortal, you and J'zargo cannot slay her, only slow her progression but this one has found a way," J'zargo said.

"What way? How far are we going?" S'maash asked.

They had been walking quite a ways. S'maash felt the ground slowly descend as they continued.

"Not much farther to go. Listen to J'zargo, for he is wise," he ordered.

S'maash did listen but wondered about the Companions. Surely, they had noticed his absence.

"J'zargo has been to the Soul Cairn, a go between of worlds for those souls who have been filtered. It is an awful place of death and lost souls. Gray skies and lightning rains upon strange spires of black stone. In the Soul Cairn, J'zargo has located a soul for Delyla. It must be infused to make her mortal," he continued.

"Restore a soul to a Vampire? Is that possible?" S'maash interrupted.

"Very much so. As J'zargo has stated innumerable times, he is very clever. A Reaper Gem, a sort of Soul Gem, can be used to restore a soul. J'zargo has this Reaper Gem. You will force her to take it. Merely touching it, will reinstate the soul," J'zargo said.

"Wait, I'm doing this? What about the College, why are they absent from this task?" S'maash asked.

"A stupid question. J'zargo knows the presence of many College mages will start a battle of epic proportions. Fearing an attack, Delyla would surely have taken necessary precautions to battle the mages. Many would die. J'zargo does not want this upon his conscience… nor his records with the College.

You and your Companions have arrived with impeccable timing. Together, you and J'zargo will defeat Delyla. As one of her most trusted, this one is privy to her chamber room, unlockable only by a spell granted from Delyla. J'zargo has seemingly captured you as an offering to her. When she goes to feast upon you, you will strike her with this," J'zargo said as he crammed a cold and rough edged object into S'maash's hand.

They stopped walking.

"The door is right here. J'zargo will open," he said.

S'maash took his hand off the Khajiit's shoulder. He then saw a violet glow and the Khajiit's claw. J'zargo touched what looked like a stone door. An effervescent light took hold of the door, enveloping it with the same glow. It shimmered then opened inwards.

The room beyond was lighted by torch fire along the walls. The light revealed clean bones strewn about the stone floor. At the end of the room, only a few dozen paces away, the Elder Vampire, Delyla, sat upon a throne of Skulls.

**Chapter Twenty-Five Porphyric Hemophilia**

Durro shield bashed Farkas across the face, sending him to the ground hard. A pool of blood drooled from his mouth. Vilkas screamed as he brought his blade into the former Companion. Aela helped Farkas back to his feet when Durro butted his pommel onto the top of Vilkas's head. The pain and impact sent him reeling.

Farkas swung his blade with all his might from side-to-side but Durro held his shield firmly, blocking Farkas's strikes. He rammed his plated shoulder into the Nord, shoved passed him, and swung his Ebony Sword at Aela. Deftly, she stepped back, nocked an arrow, and let it fly. It was the eleventh arrow to pierce Durro's armor. He could not be stopped.

"Where is that Dark Elf?" Vilkas yelled, from a knee.

S'maash was not available to help the Companions in battle. J'zargo shoved him into Delyla's chamber of bones.

"Heh heh heh, J'zargo has brought one for feasting," he said, proudly.

The Khajiit's fuzzy snout twitched with hidden pleasure, as he was certain he and his new cohort would finally bring the Elder Vampire to justice.

Delyla stood, her black hooded robes draped about an emaciated form. A pale, green, glow emanated from her eyes. Stringy white hair cascaded from inside her hood. Her voice sounded far away, as though coming from a metal tube.

"Yesss. I hunger for soulsss," she hissed.

She locked eyes with S'maash. In a hovering fashion, she floated off her throne. Her bare feet touched the ground before she walked to him. Without hesitation, he smashed the Reaper Gem across her face. She hissed and screamed wildly as her body contorted with rage and pain. The soul entered her undead form.

"Heh heh heh. J'zargo is no one's puppet," the Khajiit claimed.

He summoned two Storm Atronachs. The mammoth demons of stone and lightning immediately rained Wall of Storm all about the Elder Vampire's chamber. The arcs of purple lightning did not fare well against the omnipotent Delyla. In turn she summoned her Undead Atronachs.

Two hulking beasts of writhing and rotted flesh appeared from the pits of Oblivion. The sight was enough to turn S'maash's stomach. The golems were forged of misshaped flesh, bulging, and decrepit. Both demons possessed gaping mouths with rotten teeth, four arms with large fists, and several exposed penises, vaginas, and breasts. They were grotesque, hairless, and eight feet tall.

"That is gruesome," J'zargo said.

S'maash had hopped back, just as they were summoned. He too, summoned a Flame Atronach and casted Ebony Flesh. With sword in hand and Wall of Ice in the other, he and J'zargo commenced their attack. The Undead Atronach wielded an Absorb Life spell, a red energy sucking the Health of the Khajiit and Dark Elf.

Delyla, undaunted by magickal attacks, latched on to S'maash with claws, like steel vices. She bit into his neck immediately. While she held onto him, J'zargo gripped her head in both claws, casting Flames. His magickal attack also damaged S'maash, who stumbled around with the evil Vampire still clinging tightly.

"Waaah! Get her off!" he yelled.

His own Wall of Ice was creating thick shards of ice upon the Elder Vampire. The mages' Atronachs held their own, keeping the Undead Atronachs at bay. Fleshy fists pounded against stone and flame as bolts of lightning and errant balls of fire ricocheted off the bones, lying about the room. J'zargo managed to remove Delyla from S'maash's throat. His muscles tensed beneath his fur as the she-devil whirled about and crashed her head into his. Horrific screams escaped her lips.

From sharp fingers, she poured a red lightning onto the Khajiit. It both drained his Magicka and Health. Holding his bleeding neck with a Healing Hands spell, S'maash lunged into Delyla's back with his blade. Devoid of Magicka, it did not have much impact beyond physical damage. The sword sank into what little flesh she had but she remained undaunted. Frightening shrieks continued from her mouth.

S'maash gave his all, slashing one way and the other. J'zargo finally collapsed from crippling pain. The Vampire's physical and magickal attacks were too much. Delyla spun around and clawed at S'maash's face next. A terrible pain accosted his eye. Her sharp fingers tore flesh from his face. A warm liquid poured from his wound. Blinded in his left eye, he spun to his right with a subtle step back. He brought his sword with him. It struck Delyla square in the jaw.

At that time, as she fell, the Undead Atronachs bested one Storm Atronach and S'maash's Flame Atronach. J'zargo managed a few Fast Heal spells, replenishing his Health. He then turned to overcharging Chain Lightning, affecting all three enemies. While Delyla was falling and writhing from the spell, S'maash gripped her hood and ran his sword into her collarbone. Gripping the blade for leverage, she pulled herself upright, continuing her wild clawing and screaming.

S'maash grunted and screamed in agony and frustration.

"Fall demon!" he growled.

He could scarcely see or breathe but held a Healing spell to his face. In an attempt to keep the Vampire at bay, he continued slashing. Delyla's supreme agility, and S'maash's limited sight, gave her the opportunity to mount him again. Quickly, she climbed his body onto his shoulders. Draped over him, she sank teeth into his flesh once more.

S'maash ran back with all his remaining strength, crashing against the wall behind but she did not let off. He stabbed his blade into her. Because of her position, he lacked the mechanical power to stab effectively, incurring self-inflicted damage as well. Finally he dropped to the ground and rolled about. Soon as he successfully mounted her, vertigo overtook him.

While one Undead Atronach had fallen from J'zargo's magickal attacks, the other snatched S'maash from Delyla. Gripping the Dark Elf in three hands, the golem beat him against the wall. S'maash lost his sword in the confusing agony. Animal fear crept into him. He screamed and cried. Then he prayed to his ancestors to watch over him. As his life slowly ebbed away a renewed vigor possessed him. Coupled with the flames from his Ancestor's Wrath, S'maash's new strength helped him to wriggle free from the Undead Atronach. A few Fast Healing spells restored him but not his sight.

J'zargo, also fully restored, took S'maash's blade. He stepped in with raised sword and swung from overhead with all his might. The blow cleanly hacked off one of the golem's arms. It replied with an overhead fist into the Khajiit. Upon falling onto his rear, he scrambled away to the door, before the chamber of skulls. As he watched the remaining Undead Atronach and the Vampire assault S'maash, J'zargo carefully summoned two Bound Dremora. The demons appeared from Oblivion, vicious Daedric Greatswords in their hands.

"Bow before me!" one demon grumbled with its wretched voice.

"Kneel wretched cur!" a Dremora demanded.

The Dremora, red and black skinned demons clad in wicked Daedric armor, charged the Undead Atronach. The summoned beasts fought without tire. The gurgling voices of the Dremora reverberated against the stone walls as they hacked and slashed into undead flesh. J'zargo and S'maash regrouped to overtake Delyla.

S'maash wrapped his arms around the Vampire. Running forward, he crashed into the fighting demons. In their tussle, the Dremora finally destroyed the Undead Atronach. It was banished back to Oblivion. S'maash, on his knees, held firmly onto Delyla. She held her mouth on his throat, sucking the life out of him and into herself. J'zargo gripped her head again. As he pulled it back, she let go of S'maash, taking a small chunk of him with her. Exposing her throat and bloodied mouth, the Bound Dremora swung his sword down, removing her head from her body.

The impact forced J'zargo to stumble back a few paces. His fur and robes were completely covered in blood. The Dremora also came to a standstill. S'maash fell to the ground, bleeding profusely. J'zargo dropped Delyla's head and approached him. It took several minutes but Healing Hands restored the Dark Elf, somewhat. He was going to live.

Back in the cave, Durro cut Aela across her chest with such potency that his blade shattered her armor. Deep, bleeding wounds oozed over her body. She tried to crawl away but Durro placed a plated boot onto her ankle. She yelled in pain when Vilkas, a bloody mess himself, charged into Durro, knocking him off his shield sister. Farkas came in running from behind Durro. He slashed down into the man's back forcing him to stumble forward.

A sudden jolt accosted Durro. His limbs spasmed wildly and he dropped his weapons. The Companions were taken aback. Durro turned to them. The red glow from his helmet dissipated. With a thunderous crash, he fell to his knees, then onto his face. Durro was defeated.

As Aela wriggled about in pain, Farkas approached his former shield brother, Durro.

"Is he finally dead?" he asked.

Vilkas stumbled over, using his sword as leverage to keep from falling.

"See to Aela. I'll check Durro," he said wincing in pain.

Vilkas fell to his knees, allowing his sword to fall to the ground.

"Are you hurt?" Farkas asked.

Aela hit him in the arm.

"Of course I'm hurt you idiot!" she chastised.

Farkas winced as he looked to his brother.

"I think she's fine," he replied.

Vilkas pulled Durro's Steel Plate Helmet from his head. The Nord was in fact dead. Blank eyes stared into the abyss. Vilkas closed them.

"May you continue to fight Sovngarde. We have avenged you, shield brother," he said, quietly.

Farkas sat cross-legged and took stock of the battlefield. Dead Necromages, glowing ashes, blood, and frozen magick covered the ground. He and his Companions were all but defeated. Vilkas lied back, holding his sides. Farkas held his heavily damaged shoulder. Aela passed out on her flank.

"Where's the Dark Elf?" Farkas asked concerned.

"The coward must have fled. Damnable wizard. He should have been here to heal us," Vilkas complained.

"I am," S'maash yelled.

He and J'zargo limped over to the injured Companions to heal them.

"Where in Oblivion have you been?" Vilkas asked.

"Heheheh. J'zargo needed your friend for College business. It was this one, who saved your friend," J'zargo said.

With a modicum of health returned, Vilkas demanded answers.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"You may call this one hero, or J'zargo if you prefer. This one is an instructor at the College of Winterhold. S'maash and Khajiit have killed the Elder Vampire, Delyla. Her defeat broke her spell over your friend. It was us who won the day," J'zargo proclaimed.

"I don't understand," Farkas said.

"It's fine," Vilkas said standing. "S'maash didn't run away. He fought the Vampire, who must have been controlling Durro. Thank you, both of you. Now help us get Durro out of here and back to Jorrvaskr. He deserves a proper send off to Sovngarde," Vilkas added, gravely.

**Chapter Twenty-Six Forgotten Treasure**

The conclusion of Thorald's business ended when the townsfolk of Whiterun gathered before the Skyforge. It was customary for the fallen Companions to be burned upon the mysterious forge. Each member of the order took a turn to give praises to their fallen shield brother. Once the short ceremony concluded, Vilkas took a torch to the pyre supporting Durro's body.

"You've done a fine thing court wizard. From this day on you are one of us. If ever you need assistance come back to Jorrvaskr," Vilkas said.

"If my brother likes you, I like you. Thanks," Farkas added.

"Not bad for a wizard. I welcome your presence around the mead hall any day S'maash," Aela said.

S'maash could not help but smile. While it was a day for respects, the Companions did not grieve. They were glad to have avenged Durro and helped him to the eternal fighting and feasting of Sovngarde. Thorald was present as well, wearing dark finery.

"So it's all over eh?" Thorald asked.

S'maash looked up to meet his eyes. He nodded slowly.

"It was more than just Necromages wasn't it. It's no wonder the Companions wanted your aide. Well. You've done a fine thing here," Thorald said.

S'maash looked around. For a moment his silent reverie diminished the events in his proximity. The torch fires wavered, casting dancing shadows. Inside S'maash's ears, the crackle of flame was like the sound of tearing cloth. It was obscenely loud. Above him, the stars sparkled like diamonds. _J'zargo must be right I must have contracted-_, his thoughts broke suddenly.

"What?" S'maash asked startled.

"I said, you're probably off to College business. Anyway, should you ever need anything at all from me, I and Whiterun's people are in your debt," Thorald said.

After patting S'maash's shoulder, Thorald joined the Companions inside Jorrvaskr for drinks and food.

"Aren't you coming?" Aela asked S'maash.

"No, thank you… my wounds still ache," he replied.

Over a day had passed since the vicious battle. S'maash and J'zargo had done their best to heal everyone but their powers of Restoration were lacking. So they limped back to Whiterun where Danica, the priestess of Kynareth, did her best to bandage and brace their wounds. S'maash had neglected to tell her he fought Delyla, the Elder Vampire.

Danica, being the phenomenal Healer she was, noticed the bite marks on S'maash, just after she noticed his badly damaged eye. She told him the blessings of Kynareth were ample to banish any disease.

"_Normally, Porphyric Hemophilia only takes hold of one's soul after sleep. So long as we remove the disease before it becomes the curse, you'll be fine,"_ her thick Nord accent, with rolling R's rang, throughout his minds like a bell.

Then the Khajiit's gravelly voice burst into his head, _"Heheh, J'zargo does not believe your ailment to be so simple. Delyla was an Elder Vampire. Her bite may have affected more than just your blood. Do not sleep unless you are certain the disease is cleansed from your soul."_

S'maash worried. The voices in his mind were almost like reliving the conversations. Everything around him had taken a strange essence, unfamiliar. He decided to return to Danica. The Temple of Kynareth was modest and clean. Danica was watering some Lavender plants when S'maash entered. She too had attended Durro's ceremony.

"Feeling better? Or worse?" she asked.

"J'zargo said an Elder Vampire's bite might be worse than normal Vampires'," S'maash spoke gravely.

"Aye, 'tis a possibility. Come," she said.

S'maash approached the hearty Nord woman. Her yellow and brown robes appeared almost living to the Dark Elf. She looked him over, carefully, prayed to Kynareth to clean him of impurities then took a look at his bandages.

"Hmm, I'm both impressed and frightened at the turn your eye has taken," Danica said.

"I can see out of it again," he replied.

"You should not have been able to… nor should it have healed so quickly. Perhaps your Khajiit friend was right. If an Elder Vampire's bite affects the soul directly then Vampirism might manifest itself without ever going to sleep," she said rather calmly.

S'maash turned his palms over in resignation.

"There's nothing I can do?" he asked.

"There is always something. So long as you still have your soul we can save you from the horrible curse. With finely ground Soul Gems, Garlic, Blessed Water, and a little sap from the Gildergreen tree I think I can make a potion to help you," She informed him.

"The what tree?" he asked.

"The Gildergreen, the large tree just outside? Nevermind, I will handle that and then bless some water as well. You return with the Powdered Soul Gem and Garlic. Make haste," she said.

S'maash did not need to be told twice. He bolted out of the Temple and up the steps to Dragonsreach in a flash. From his study he took both the Garlic and the Soul Gem. Working quickly at the Alchemy Table, he ground the Soul Gem to a fine, purple, powder. The he ran all the way back to the Temple. _I don't even tire…_ he thought. He arrived back inside the temple.

"Here," he offered a clove of Garlic and Powdered Soul Gem.

She took it all to a basin. First she sprinkled the Powdered Soul Gem into the basin containing Blessed Water. Tiny crystals sank to the bottom. She used the Garlic by rubbing it inside the small clay bowl previously holding the Powdered Soul Gem. Once enough juices flowed into the bowl, she added Gildergreen Sap, a vibrant sap, like honey.

S'maash observed all her ritualistic antics. The more time passed, the stranger his body felt. He wanted her to hurry but instead she knelt before the basin. She prayed softly, too softly for S'maash to hear, but he did hear. It was like she had lips pressed to his ears.

"Bless this mixture Oh Kynareth. Let us clean the impurities from our friend, the Dark Elf. He has fought bravely and achieved victory against the Unholy. Bless this mixture Goddess of Nature, so that balance might be restored," Danica said.

After a few repeats, with subtle variances, she placed the clay bowl in the basin and continued praying. Shortly after, the water in the basin sizzled. The Powdered Soul Gem reacted with everything else. Danica then turned to S'maash, who was on the verge of losing his marbles.

"Quickly, remove your clothing. I will anoint your body with this mixture. It is the Elixir of Purity," Danica ordered.

Again, S'maash did not need convincing. He tossed all his armor and clothing about. Standing naked before her, he took a few awkward steps. Danica dipped some Linen Wraps in the Elixir of Purity and scrubbed S'maash down like a racehorse. It was not the gentle caress of compassion but a vigorous cleansing. It took a few minutes but Danica managed to scrub every inch of Dark Elf skin.

"Should I dress?" he asked when she stopped.

"No. Let the Elixir take hold," she ordered.

"How? Oh…" he replied.

The Elixir tingled then grew cold. With a sudden spasm from his midsection, S'maash vomited profusely. He dropped to his knees and searched about for somewhere to continue vomiting, but there was nothing. He threw up all over the wooden floors. Danica eyed him sparingly. There was nothing either of them could do. Finally, S'maash was empty. He took a great inhalation and felt better than he had in many years.

"Goodness! I'm sorry for… the mess," he said with a smile.

"Make it up by cleaning," Danica retorted, jokingly.

Together, after he dressed, they both cleaned up the mess.

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" he asked her.

"Keeping Whiterun safe is enough for me. Sleep well tonight," Danica said.

S'maash decided against sleeping in bed. Instead he collected all his gear and hired a cart ride back to Winterhold. He slept along the way. As the cart jostled softly, S'maash half dreamed of treasure. Suddenly he remembered the hammer. _I forgot all about that weapon the Falmer used back in Mzulft._ He kept it in his room at the College. _I wonder if it could really be Sunder…_ he thought.

Wakened by his own thoughts, he decided to scribble more of his story in his journal. The logbook was coming along nicely. While S'maash was no storyteller, chronicling his own adventures was rather simple.

The cart ride dragged on. While the weather was nice and they only stopped in Dawnstar along the way, S'maash's need to verify his hammer was pressing. Half a day after leaving Dawnstar, they arrived in Winterhold.

S'maash slowly walked up the stone bridge towards the College, a light snow sprinkled. Over the many hours of travel, he had ample time to think everything through. He decided to not make a real decision. If fate was truth, and Sunder was in fact in his room, then S'maash was going to reforge the Heart of Lorkhan. If, for whatever reason, his life was not intended to forge the Heart of Lorkhan, then so be it.

S'maash wanted only knowledge. Seeing the Necromages with their new spells and ancient Vampires with spells of old was too compelling. S'maash wanted to see everything through to its natural end, even if his end was a part of that. He finally made it into his room. There, he unwrapped both weapons. They looked and felt similar. S'maash went off to find Tolfdir.

First he checked the Hall of Elements but found only students. In the Arcaeneum he found only Urag. Tolfdir was not in either of the other halls so S'maash walked back to the Hall of Elements and took the door to the Arch Mage's Quarters. He knocked first.

"You may enter," Tolfdir's voice bled through the door.

S'maash walked in. The Arch Mage's Quarters was a beautiful, round, room. Built from the same gray block as the rest of the Mage's College, Tolfdir's room held many niceties. An Arcane Enchanter, Alchemy Table, several tables, chairs, and shelves with a great deal of tomes. At the center of the room were a plethora of reagents growing naturally in a tidy garden. Black tapestries hung about, displaying the College's symbol, a large eye over a sort of pentagram.

"What is it, S'maash?" Tolfdir asked.

S'maash stood before him with both weapons in hand. He locked eyes with the Arch Mage.

"What happened to your eye?" Tolfdir asked.

"It's nothing. Is this Sunder?" S'maash asked in return.

Tolfdir took a seat at a small square table adorned with silver finery, candlesticks, mugs, silverware. He motioned for S'maash to join him.

"Let us have a look. Hmm, I have heard Sunder was a hammer. Let's see Keening," Tolfdir said.

"They both appear crafted from the same hands. Both feel alive with some wavering force," S'maash commented.

Tolfdir looked them both over.

"I cannot say for certain but I do believe this is in fact Sunder. Where did you find it?" Tolfdir asked.

"Mzulft. Falmer were battling before a fragment of the Heart of Lorkhan. Is it not strange that I have had this in my possession for some time? Every step I take seems to lead me to this ultimate end… I feel as though I must undertake this task of reforging the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash explained.

"Yes… Sometimes there are men and mer alike who appear to have to no choice but to carry out the task the Gods have deigned them for. S'maash," Tolfdir grew exceptionally serious. "I once had the pleasure of working with the Dragonborn. It seemed, he too, was destined for a specific task. Fate bestowed the title of Dragonborn onto him and fate pushed him into many trepidations. Unfortunately, fate changed him into… well, into what he was meant to be, for better or worse.

Here, you have a choice. You can see this through to its end or you can stand back and say 'fate be damned'. Whatever the choice you make, you have our support, my support."

S'maash looked down at the table. He was simply frightened. The unknown was a terrible enemy.

"What if something goes wrong? What…" he trailed off.

Tolfdir heaved a heavy sigh.

"You are still young. For all your adventures, failures, and triumphs, you still have many obstacles before you. Just promise me you'll tread carefully and do your best to ponder every implication," Tolfdir said, placing his hand on S'maash's.

"I promise," he replied.

S'maash stood, took his treasures, and left the Arch Mage to his ruminations before he made his way back to his own room. There, he expended the powers of a Greater Soul Gem to refuel his sword's magickal properties. He still needed a white soul for the completion of Hermaeus Mora's task. Upon recharging his blade, he walked out of the College and out of town.

It was late in the evening. Winterhold was always cold, its ground packed loosely with pristine snow. S'maash circled the town looking for an animal to sacrifice. It was not long before he saw a Snow Fox. The tiny, white, fox looked at him and ran away. It left tiny paw prints in the snow. S'maash was not in a mood to give chase. He walked around for hours and the sun set. A starry sky and twin moons lit his path. A low growl called his attention.

S'maash was familiar the Snowy Saber Cats of Skyrim. He waited. From his right, he noticed movement. The white of fur was nearly indiscernible from the snow but rapid movement was easy enough to see. The steady beat of large paws came closer.

S'maash turned to his right. With his left hand he blasted the Saber Cat with Wall of Ice. The many shards both slowed and injured the cat. Red tainted the snow. As the Saber Cat writhed, S'maash approached and slayed it. A simple thrusting of his blade, deep into the animal's flank, sufficed. It glowed purple and caught aflame from the sword's enchantments. The Daedric Heart Gem was filled.

With the deed done, S'maash started his way back to the Midden. Heavy steps took him to the entrance in the courtyard. From there, he traversed the icy cavern of the Midden and stood before the Oblivion Forge. The Sigil Stone glowed a violent red, intermittently. S'maash opened the offering box and placed everything inside. He then pulled the lever and waited.

A horrendous impact jarred him. For a moment he was befuddled. His head spun. After a modicum of control returned to him, S'maash looked around. The Sigil Stone had shattered. He stood then ran over to the forge to find his treasure. There was nothing. Confused, he opened the offering the box. His fragments and Daedric Heart Gem were still inside.

"What? What has gone wrong?" he asked.

A crimson mist had crept from the shattered Sigil Stone. It slowly descended and hovered above the cold ground. S'maash sighed and gave a subtle shrug in resignation. He took his belongings and went back to find Tolfdir. He was still in his room. Inside they spoke.

"Fascinating. Perhaps a normal Sigil Stone is not potent enough for this undertaking," Tolfdir commented.

"Normal Sigil Stones? Are there other kinds?" S'maash inquired.

Tolfdir leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

"Well, it has been said, the hero who helped Martin Septim obtained a special Sigil Stone. Some of the details escape me but, I believe this Greater Sigil Stone was required to open a portal to Mankar Cameron's alternate reality," Tolfdir said.

S'maash clenched his jaw a few times before speaking, "What do you know about these Sigil Stones. Their magickal properties are unknown to me."

Tolfdir nodded rhythmically as he searched for words.

"A Sigil Stone embodies the chaotic forces of Oblivion itself. Many years ago, Enchanters used them for their particular enchantments. I'm almost surprised you are unfamiliar with their uses. Sigil Stones also anchor the forces of chaos," Tolfdir spoke slowly.

"Enchanting? Wait, what do you mean anchor forces of chaos?" S'maash inquired.

"Well, Sigil Stones can be used to crack the fabric of reality, create a bridge or portal from the realms of Oblivion into other realms, ours for example," Tolfdir attempted to clarify.

"How?" S'maash asked.

"I'm not sure, to tell the truth, but there is a book somewhere. I believe the Blades might have a copy. They did after all play a major role during the Oblivion crisis. Mehrunes Dagon used the Sigil Stones to that end but only because Uriel Septim was dead and his son Martin had yet to wear the Amulet of Kings," Tolfdir explained.

"So, without an heir to the throne, Mehrunes Dagon was able to break his way into Tamriel?" S'maash asked.

"Yes," Tolfdir replied.

S'maash rapped his fingers against the wooden table.

"It seems, if I wish to continue this task, I must somehow obtain this Greater Sigil Stone," S'maash said softly.

Tolfdir leaned back again.

"Well… If you must continue, perhaps this your sign to put an end to this ordeal," Tolfdir said.

"I don't think Hermaeus Mora will just release me from this task," S'maash answered.

"With Azura's guidance you most certainly can break away from Hermaeus Mora, though it will not be a simple matter," Tolfdir replied.

As candles' flames flickered about, Tolfdir's chambers grew slightly ominous. S'maash pondered for a moment. Tolfdir kept a firm gaze upon him. They met eyes.

"I should see the Blades. Farengar said they are usually unwilling to work with others. I must read this book you mentioned. After that… well, I suppose we'll see," S'maash said.

"You have slain a Dragon. That alone should convince them to listen to your request. You can find them at Skyhaven Temple, far to southwest. They are in the Reach so tread carefully. Here, let me see your map," Tolfdir said, marking the location.

"I have been to the Reach a few times," S'maash remarked.

"You have been to Markarth, no? The Reach is still Forsworn territory, no matter what that Silver-Blood says. Tread carefully," Tolfdir advised.

So S'maash readied himself for the Reach.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven Clashing of Blades**

A cart ride from Winterhold took S'maash to the outskirts of Falkreath. He was unfamiliar with that hold but had no intention of familiarizing himself with it. He was on a fast track to knowledge. S'maash proceeded by foot to the north, looking for Karthspire, the entrance to Sky Haven temple.

Falkreath's hold was rather ominous. The scent of death hung heavily in the humid air. Most of the soil underfoot was an awfully dark color, almost black. Several dead trees grew from the ground. They looked as though it had been painful to crack through the soil and into daylight.

S'maash looked above him as he walked. The sky was gray with rolling clouds. No rain fell but it was obvious it soon would. A few hours of traveling north took him into the outskirts of the Reach. A slight rain trickled with thunder echoing far away, in the distance.

Before him, S'maash saw structures of wood over lakes. Behind the structures, a mountain grew, atop it was Sky Haven temple. It was a magnificent stone structure, partially ensconced by the mountain into which it was built. _Not too difficult so far_, S'maash thought.

As he drew closer, he saw the wooden structures were roughly hewn wooden bridges supported by ropes. Many stone steps lead into the Karthspire. A sudden movement caught his eye.

"Bad place for you to get lost, friend," a man yelled.

S'maash looked to slightly to his left. A platform had been erected as a sort of guard tower, or redoubt. The man wore strange, leather equipment, full of bones and feathers, a deer head over his face. War paint covered his body. In his hands were two bony swords.

"Forsworn," S'maash muttered.

He casted an Ebony Flesh spell then switched to Wall of Ice and drew his sword. As the man came running down the steps of Karthspire, he shouted war cries. Soon after his yelling, many more Forsworn joined his cause. A flurry of Ice Spikes and arrows came from the attacking force. Covering the required distance over the wooden walkways was not going to be an easy task. So S'maash quickly conjured a Flame Atronach for assistance.

The Atronach belted out a fiery assault as soon as it crossed into Tamriel. S'maash followed behind, the bridge swayed a bit under his momentum. Two filthy warriors blocked his path at the end of the first wooden juncture, swords of steel and bone clashed as S'maash hacked away at the enemies. More Ice Spikes and arrows flew from everywhere but did little to dissuade the Dark Elf.

A Forsworn lass shoved her comrade away then stepped in to bash S'maash with the haft of her stony axe. The blow brushed off his collarbone, protected by his enchanted armor. S'maash held palm out, freezing her over as a few arrows struck his armor. He then slashed low at her knee. As she buckled, he brought the blade back towards his body for a cross slash at her head. She went down hard before rolling off into the water below.

With the bridge partially clear, the male Forsworn warrior, and many more coming from behind, spun and brought both his blades at S'maash chest. The Dark Elf stepped back in time to avoid the brunt of the blow. While he covered his attacker in frozen spikes of magicka, the Atronach danced and let loose another volley of Fireballs. They exploded with severe fire damage upon impact.

"You'll not block my way, Forsworn!" S'maash yelled out over the clamor of battle.

"I'll put you down yet!" the Forsworn yelled back.

"Time to die, hero," another added.

The man pressed the attack, thrusting one blade then the other. S'maash parried easily enough but the man fought hard, pushing forward ever more. With magicka running a bit low, S'maash side-stepped into the rope, rolled his belly over it, then took behind his assailant. From his new position, S'maash reached over the man's shoulder and sank his blade deep into his chest.

The short-lived victory gave way when more Forsworn finally reached S'maash's position. The Dark Elf then ran past the first juncture and to his right, trying to gain some height. Unfortunately, the position he coveted was home to a few Forsworn with bows and magick. S'maash ducked under a sword swing, spun around to his left, slashed across a man's bare chest then shoved him into another member of the Forsworn.

"You ready to die today? Huh?" a lady Forsworn asked.

With the Atronach banished, and too many attackers in the open, S'maash ran down the wooden bridge, vaulted himself over a rope, and landed on a wooden platform housing a ragged tent. While standing behind it, only partially covered from battle, he recasted Ebony Flesh, took a breath, and rejoined the fray.

A female Forsworn, feathers in her matted hair, was happy to greet him.

"I'll paint my face with your blood Elf," she said with a yellow grin.

Undaunted, S'maash kicked her in the stomach then ran her through. After shoving her corpse off his blade, he ran off to his right again then found the stone steps he coveted. At the top, he saw six Forsworn warriors and two people clad in what appeared to be blue, steel, armor. The Forsworn were battling them as well.

_The Blades must have heard the commotion,_ he thought. There was little time to waste, S'maash had to reach the archers and spell casters. He summoned a new Atronach. With a few Fireballs of his own, both he and his Atronach gave the Forsworn archer a great deal of fiery damage. Aflame, the enemy screamed and ran about before diving into the lake. S'maash took the opportunity to cover the dozens steps.

Upon reaching the stone platform before Karthspire, S'maash dove into battle. He swung his sword across the exposed back of a Forsworn mage. The woman screamed in agony as she fell over, sideways. S'maash plunged his blade into her abdomen and she writhed about bit before bleeding to death. With the help of the Blades, the Forsworn were quickly defeated.

"Th- Thank you," S'maash said, out of breath.

"You bring battle to our doorstep then thank us?" a female Blade asked.

It was difficult to tell, as her armor and helmet covered most of her features, but a few strands of long, chestnut, hair, and effeminate voice, gave her away. S'maash shrugged apologetically.

"Don't mind Perseya. I'm Colville. We lead what's left of the Blades here in Skyrim. Come inside to safety," Colville said.

He was a tall man and broad. S'maash was certain they were both Imperials. Everyone was covered in Forsworn blood. S'maash looked around, awkwardly, for a second then Colville motioned his head to follow. The Dark Elf was thankful for a respite after the fast-paced battle. They stepped into a cave, leading inside the Karthspire.

Evidence of a life inside the brown, stone, walls of the cave remained. Some tables and chairs were neatly stacked. Whomever had lived there previously, had obviously moved.

"Why do the Forsworn camp outside the Karthspire?" S'maash asked.

They continued walking passed lighted braziers.

"You come here uninvited then ask questions of us?" Perseya asked angrily.

Colville chuckled.

"Come now, our new friend is weary from battle. What is your name friend?" Colville asked.

"S'maash, I am from the College of Winterhold," he replied.

"More mages," Perseya remarked.

They traversed into an area of gray stone with beautiful depictions of symbols S'maash did not recognize.

"Tell me what brings you here and I will tell you of the Forsworn," Colville replied jovially.

"It is a long tale. In short I hear the Blades may be the only organization in possession of a book I need to read. I'm looking for a way into Oblivion, to recover a Greater Sigil Stone," S'maash said

They all came to a halt on the middle of a stone platform, or bridge, leading higher into Karthspire.

"Oblivion? Are you daft?" Colville asked.

S'maash and the Imperial caught each other's eye.

"I'm quite serious. I need the Greater Sigil Stone to carry out a task given to me by Hermaeus Mora," S'maash told him.

"Tsh, nothing but trouble, letting outsiders in here," Persaye said.

"Quiet Lieutenant," Colville replied.

S'maash realized Colville was in charge, so he directed all his attention to him.

"I understand your sentiments. I was unaware the Forsworn were so… prevalent. Tolfdir had mentioned them but I…" S'maash trailed off.

"It's fine really. They've been trying to take back Karthspire for twenty years. Truthfully, you helped us as much as we helped you. That'll be one less group of Forsworn to run off and sack Karthwasten, the nearby town," Colville replied.

They continued walking and finally reached a large room. A strange, circular design was carved into the stone floor. The two burning braziers revealed it was a sort of swirling pattern, almost like concentric circles. Beyond it, was the entry into Skyhaven Temple. A massive, stone, head was carved into the ceiling of the entry way. The odd manner in which it was positioned brought unknown questions to S'maash, but he did not bother with them.

"Come inside and rest for a bit. Perhaps after some food and drink we may discuss this book you seek," Colville suggested.

"Aye," S'maash answered.

Skyhaven Temple was a large structure built from gray stone. Ancient Akiviri architecture prevailed through out. There were few rooms, from what S'maash could see, but the large spaces were utilized quite well. Very few members of the Blades resided within. Torchlight revealed a great wall at the far end of the first chamber. S'maash eyed it. Before he could study it, Colville pulled him into a room to their left. There, some tables and chairs beckoned. They took seats as another Blade brought forth food and drink from the adjacent kitchen.

"So what is this book you think we possess?" Colville asked.

"The Blades were once the protectors of the Emperors of Cyrodiil. I have been told they fought beside Martin Septim during the Oblivion crisis," S'maash started.

Colville nodded attentively. He brought his palms together before his face and looked passed his fingers at S'maash. A wavering fire cast plenty of light for them to see.

"I understand Mehrunes Dagon forced his way into Tamriel, but before that, someone had to enter the Mythic Dawn's new plane of existence. If I have my story correct, several items were needed to do so, including the Greater Sigil Stone, and again, if I am correct, one can only be obtained from Oblivion," S'maash said.

"That is the story but I'm not quite sure how you think the Blades can help. Nor do I understand what you want with some mysterious book," Colville replied.

S'maash looked around uncomfortably as he ate some Roasted Goat Leg. He was unsure as to whether Colville was being discreet or if perhaps he had no knowledge on the matter. From the meager accommodations, S'maash deduced the Blades might not be faring too well.

"Would it help to gain your trust if I told you my brother and I defeated KrifAhrkDir on Sigrid's Plunge?" S'maash asked.

Colville removed his helmet and gingerly placed it on the ground next to him. Thick, dark, hair was combed back, away from his face.

"Perhaps. Now if you'll indulge me, what is this quest for the Daedric Prince of Knowledge?" Colville asked.

S'maash heaved a sigh then erupted into the entirety of the story. After almost two hours, and two pints of ale, the story came to reside in Skyhaven Temple.

"Truly? The Heart of Lorkhan?" Colville asked.

"Yes," S'maash replied.

Colville stirred.

"Perhaps we should not deny you this knowledge of Oblivion… then again, by your own admission, you could very well be threatening Tamriel, just as Mankar Cameron did, during the Oblivion crisis," Colville added.

He was right. S'maash looked away.

"At least I have been honest with you," S'maash said.

"Yes, there is no question. I do not believe you wish ill will upon Tamriel but… No, I cannot give you this book," Colville stated with no room for interpretation.

"But-," S'maash started.

Colville stood then turned away.

"The Blades have suffered greatly," he started with a haggard tone. "We were once mighty Dragon slayers, then protectors of a seat of power. After the Aldmeri Dominion forced the signing of the White-Gold Concordat, we fell to the wayside. Then we were hunted to near extinction. You know the Dragonborn brought us back together… but he too is gone and so are my former masters.

I lead what's left of the Blades now. It would be unwise for me to give you the power to destroy Tamriel. I'm sorry," Colville finished and walked away.

S'maash sat in silence for a few moments. Persaye walked by him, her boots clanking upon the stone floor. She took a seat on the wooden bench beside him. For a moment, neither spoke a word. Then she turned her attention to him. Her gorgeous, long, hair bounced a bit when she did so.

"What is it?" S'maash asked.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight Coveting Glory**

"That Colville is a fool. If he had it all his way, we would be little more than a band of minstrels, telling stories no one cares about," Persaye said, angrily.

S'maash was not altogether surprised. She had shown her gruff exterior the entire time. He locked eyes with her but said nothing. For a moment longer, they stared at one another.

"Well, I know of the tome you seek and will gladly give it you…" her words trailed off like honey.

She ran fingers through her chestnut locks then smiled at S'maash. In turn, he raised his brow, quizzically.

"Naturally you require something on my part," S'maash said.

She nodded.

"I want Colville removed. I don't care how, I just want him gone," Persaye said, looking away.

S'maash gauged her. He thought she might have remorse or embarrassment. She did not.

"Why don't you do it?" S'maash asked.

She turned back to him with a frown then placed her chin in her left hand, elbow on the table.

"The rest of the Blades won't follow my lead… Colville is not a bad person, no, he is rather well liked and respected. I require a seemingly natural progression to Captain of the Blades," she replied.

"You could hire the Dark Brotherhood," S'maash said.

"Yes… then surely he would be gone. Truthfully, I'd prefer a less violent end," Persaye said.

"You have something in mind?" S'maash asked.

"I do and it requires an outsider," she answered. "Colville has a son, a young boy. Colville's mother lives in a settlement just outside Markarth. She watches the boy. If you convince Colville that his family is in danger, he might resign from the Blades and settle back home. In this manner, no one gets hurt and I rise to Captain. You get your book and everyone wins," Persaye explained.

S'maash nodded in approval. While he was an honest mer, he had no ties to Colville, at least, no more than to Persaye. Both of them had just helped him after all.

"How do you intend to carry this out?" S'maash inquired.

"I have a forged document implying a Forsworn attack on Left Hand Mine. Deliver it to the Jarl of Markarth. News will travel, I'll make sure of that. Once it reaches Colville's ears, I'll make sure he tends to it. Once he mobilizes the Blades, you'll have to lead the Forsworn to Left Hand Mine," she said.

"How will I do that?" S'maash asked.

"You'll have to enter a nearby redoubt and let them attack you. If you pose as a wandering merchant and leave behind a small supply bundle along with another forged document I've prepared, they'll believe you came from Left Hand Mine. No doubt they will mount a raid," Persaye replied.

"Unless they strike me down," S'maash rebutted.

"A possibility you've no doubt encountered many times. I saw you handle yourself quite well today. I've no doubt you can carry this out successfully… this is the only way you'll get your book, and the Blades at your side to boot," Persaye replied with a smile.

S'maash nodded rhythmically as he considered her proposition.

"Both the Blades and Markarth's guard will help to quell the Forsworn raid?" S'maash asked.

"Yes," Persaye said.

"You're certain no one will be injured?" S'maash asked.

"Other than those damnable Forsworn, I'm certain, yes. With Colville tricked by my words, he'll doubtlessly make sure Left Hand Mine is evacuated before the Forsworn arrive," she replied.

"When can I get this book?" he asked.

"Once I'm Captain, I'll have it delivered to where ever you like," she answered.

"You might as well send it to the College of Winterhold. If I'm not there, Archmage Tolfdir may accept it. Now, I'll deliver that message to the Jarl," S'maash said.

Persaye handed two folded pieces of parchment, sealed with wax, to S'maash.

"This one, with the Blades seal, is for the Jarl. This one, with the red wax, is your false merchant's supply list. Safe travels S'maash," Persaye said.

He took the documents then proceeded out of Skyhaven Temple. Several hours had passed and night was settling over Karthspire. Corpses of the previous battle littered the bloody ground. S'maash made the slow journey to Markarth.

His feet trudged heavily as he pondered over the implications of Persaye's plan._ I suppose nothing bad will come of this, after all I'm only delivering a message._ He continued walking in the cold, Skyrim, night. An uneventful journey down the paved road brought him upon the small mining settlement of Left Hand Mine. S'maash did not so much as stop to look. Instead, he proceeded directly inside the walls of the former Dwemer city. Tired and exhausted, S'maash crossed the few stone bridges to Understone keep.

"Hail summoner. Conjure me up a warm bed, would you?" the guard posted outside the brass-like doors asked.

"No Ma'am," S'maash replied, indifferently.

He proceeded inside the keep. It was too early for the Jarl to be awake, so S'maash waited a few moments. After an eternity of being bored, and slightly nervous, S'maash went to check on Aicantar. Hoping he was awake, S'maash was glad to find the Altmer busy with some books on the Falmer.

"Greetings Aicantar," S'maash called as he approached the robed, High Elf.

"What? Oh yes, greetings S'maash. How are you?" Aicantar asked.

"Fairly well I suppose. And yourself?" he asked.

"I was pouring over some translations my uncle left behind. I fear the Falmer may be mounting some kind of attack on surface dwellers in the future," Aicantar replied.

"Truly?" S'maash inquired.

"Aye. Fortunately for us, here in Markarth, we should be well protected," Aicantar replied.

"But the Falmer have easy access into Markarth by way of Nchuand-Zel," S'maash rebutted.

"Well, yes and no. The automated defenses hold up quite well. If they did indeed attempt an attack from the Dwemer city, the guard would have an easy time keeping them at bay. Furthermore, a simple barring of the doors would suffice.

Truthfully, having access to the Falmer via Nchuand-Zel has its benefits," Aicantar explained.

The conversation gave S'maash a new respect for strategies of war. After further discussions, and the sun's rising, S'maash bid Aicantar good day. He then left for the Jarl's throne room.

The Jarl, Thongvor Silver-Blood, was an aging Nord, bald and gruff. As such, he was unwilling to be bothered, so in turn his steward took S'maash note.

"You think the Forsworn will attack?" Reburrus asked.

"It is not for me to know. The Blades believe it a likely event. After a short meeting with them, in the wake of a battle between them and the Forsworn, they bid me provide you with this parchment," S'maash answered.

"I will have word with the Jarl. He often worries The Reach is danger of such attacks. Here is a small payment for your trouble," he replied.

He handed S'maash 25 Septims then bid him safe travels. After the quick conversation, S'maash traveled into town. He asked around for the provisions store and was directed to Arnleif and Son's supply. The modest shop was located just inside Markarth's large doors.

After traversing the stone walkways back to Arnleif's, S'maash entered the store. A red haired woman with a fuzzy cap addressed him.

"No, I'm not Arnleif. Yes I know it's called Arnleif and Son's," she said.

"Very well... I simply need to purchase a few supplies," S'maash replied.

"I'm Lisbet. The selection seems small but we can provide everything you need. Just ask," Lisbet replied.

S'maash purchased some clothing, to cover his travel hardened figure, and a few packs and satchels, to better portray a merchant. He then filled those bags with some relatively cheap provisions including food, potions, Soul Gems, and ingots. By the time he was set, he had spent nearly 100 Septims.

"Thank you for your patronage," she said.

"One last thing. What can you tell me about the Forsworn?" S'maash asked.

"The Madmen of The Reach? They have a few structures around. They call them redoubts. The closest one is Cold Wind Reach, a smaller camp to the northeast. What business do you have with those animals?" Lisbet asked.

"I, I just want to steer clear of their camps," S'maash said with a fake smile.

Lisbet shrugged indifferently. S'maash then exited Markarth. He started the long journey towards Cold Wind Reach. The early day's sun was rather warm. No wind blew and S'maash was comfortable traveling. It did not take too long to reach the redoubt. He saw the wooden structure, built into the mountain side from a few hundred paces off the road. While approaching, an arrow landed at his feet. He looked up and overcastted Ebony Flesh.

"I'm just a traveling merchant," S'maash called out.

"You'll be easy to rob when you're dead," came back, from an angry female archer.

S'maash saw the feathers in her hair from where he stood. He feigned running, and feigned difficulty in running as well. To lighten his load, and move faster, he dropped his newly purchased leather bags. Inside one, was the false merchant's list. Everything was in place, so long as S'maash could run away before receiving injury. As he did not wish a fight with multiple Forsworn, he ran as fast as his Dunmer feet could carry him. He ran towards Markarth.

S'maath had developed quite a bit of Stamina in his travels. It was with relative ease that he took himself all the way back to Markarth's stables. Upon arriving, and out of breath, he approached the cart master, who was sitting on his carriage, just outside the town walls.

"Need a ride?" the Nord asked.

"Aye. To Winterhold please," S'maash said.

Without wasting anymore time or money, he was transported back to Winterhold, where he hoped everything would turn out according to plan.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine A Prelude to Oblivion**

A few days had passed since S'maash's errand for Persaye of the Blades. He sat on the green linens of his bed in his stone room. The Hall of Countenance was a welcome respite from the previous trek and battles. To date, he had not heard word of any book being delivered from Skyhaven Temple. Zolara entered his room.

"Yes?" S'maash asked his Argonian friend.

"I've been speaking with Brelyna, who in turn has been speaking with Tolfdir about this plan you're hatching," Zolara stated.

"You want in don't you?" S'maash asked with a smile.

"Heh, I suppose I do. Traveling into Oblivion… again, that is. Sounds rather dangerous. Who's plane do you plan on entering for this Greater Sigil Stone?" Zolara inquired.

S'maash reclined on his bed, hands folded behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling. Zolara took a seat in the wooden chair adjacent the bed.

"So far as I know, it will have to be Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion," S'maash said, quietly.

"Are you worried?" Zolara asked.

S'maash turned to the Argonian, who was relaxing his shoulder over the back of the chair.

"No… I do wish there was a better way but I am going to do this," S'maash replied.

Zolara nodded in approval.

"You should accept our assistance," Zolara suggested.

"Our?" S'maash asked.

"Of course. Brelyna would like to come as well and how about your brother, the warrior?" Zolara asked.

S'maash smiled.

"Truly, it would be nice to have you three along. Surely no harm could come to us then," S'maash replied, slightly facetiously.

The truth was, S'maash did feel as though the tight knit group would fare well together. There were always dangers in Oblivion, though and S'maash did not want to see anyone come to harm. He thought back to the first time he was in battle, when Numerius was injured. It was a bit frightening.

S'maash was different know. He was not frightened of his own demise. He had made peace long ago. He was frightened over the demise of those for whom he cared. Zolara eyed the Dunmer.

"Are you going to say something or just stare at my scales?" Zolara asked.

"You're scales could use a shining. Perhaps I will send for my brother. I need to wait for this damnable book arrive as it is," S'maash commented.

"Oh… right… you mean… this book?" Zolara asked, producing a tome.

S'maash bolted upright in bed and snatched the tome from Zolara. It was a heavy book and appeared to be bound in bony plates. S'maash rolled it over a few times then cracked it open. The pages were skin. He looked at Zolara.

"I know… looks fashioned from man or mer," Zolara commented.

S'maash flipped gingerly through the pages. The book was written in a sharp looking tongue. Pictures and diagrams of demon, man, and mer were rampant throughout the text. A few strange diagrams reminded S'maash of the pages of Shalidor's Insights. He looked up to Zolara.

"I don't understand any of this. I had expected a recounting of the tale of the Oblivion crisis," he said.

For a second, they looked at each other.

"Urag," they both said.

Wasting no time, they both jogged off to see the Orc in the Arcaeneum. Urag was standing before an open bookcase quietly dusting away when S'maash and Zolara entered. Urag heard their commotion and grimaced.

"Urag, we have a tome here but we can't decipher the language," S'maash said.

Urag sighed.

"Maybe it's because you shouldn't be reading it," he remarked.

"Just take a look, old man," Zolara said.

Urag shot him a look of contempt. He then motioned for everyone to sit down at the counter. He took the tome, spun it to face right side up, and cracked it open. His eyes went wide.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, almost angrily.

"The Blades," S'maash replied.

"Hmph. It's written in Daedradi," Urag commented.

"Demon tongue, I presume," S'maash said to Zolara.

"Aye. What are you trying to do? Open a plane to Oblivion?" Urag asked, facetiously.

"Well… yes," S'maash answered.

"It's never enough with you students is it? You can't just go traipsing through Oblivion!" Urag said.

"Why not? We did it before… with Moonshadow," Zolara added.

S'maash nodded accordingly. Urag shook his head in dismay.

"What did you want me to do?" Urag asked, seemingly exhausted.

"Can you translate the part in the tome that describes how to enter Oblivion? I'm in need of a Greater Sigil Stone," S'maash told the Orc.

"It's right after the part that says you die when you enter," Urag said, jokingly as he tapped his finger on a portion of Daedric text.

S'maash smiled.

"Don't tell me you worry about us," Zolara remarked.

"If I don't, you two imbeciles will get yourselves killed," Urag fired back.

"Please?" S'maash asked.

"Fine. This is what it says," Urag started.

The text described a methodology for creating a portal to Mehrunes Dagon's plane of Oblivion, Deadlands.

_Once every 378 years a magickal alignment takes place. During this alignment we, the Daedra scorned, shall undertake a monumental task, we shall covet strife from the other planes._

_Creating a crack from which to skulk through, requires portions of the plane we desire. Furthermore, we must act quickly to establish a permanent connection between planes. Relics required for this undertaking are provided by our lord and master, Mehrunes Dagon, the greatest of the Daedric Princes._

The sharpest of steel corrupted by our master shall cut an opening between planes. Blood of the ruler, shall hone in upon the realm we desire. Starlight shrouded in darkness, shall be our anchor.

"What does that mean? What do we need and when can we do this?" S'maash asked surprised.

"I don't know. It means you shouldn't trifle with forces you don't understand," Urag barked.

"Do you think J'zargo would know?" Zolara asked.

"We can ask…" S'maash answered, quietly.

He motioned for the tome.

"Oh no. This is staying right here with me. I can't allow a priceless artifact to be shoved into the hands of just anyone," Urag replied, closing the book.

S'maash winced.

"That's fine. Let's find the Khajiit," Zolara said.

S'maash and Zolara ran about the College of Winterhold before locating J'zargo in The Hall of the Elements. He was wearing heavy purple robes, only his snout protruded from the hood.

"Master?" Zolara called.

"This one is listening," J'zargo answered.

"J'zargo, we need you to tell us about entering a plane of Oblivion," S'maash started.

After a quick recap of the information, J'zargo took a few steps in thought.

"Perhaps there is more to the art that J'zargo has uncovered…?" he asked himself.

"Master?" Zolara asked.

"Yes. There is only one, J'zargo can send you to. Only this one may know the answers to your riddle," the Khajiit replied.

"Who?" S'maash asked.

"He calls himself Falion. He lives in Morthal. It has been said Falion has traveled through the planes of Oblivion, has spoken to the Dwemer, and discovered the secrets of unlife.

Even the great J'zargo does not desire to bother with his madness," J'zargo explained.

"Spoken to the Dwemer?" S'maash asked in disbelief.

"It is only hearsay. Go, go to Morthal. Find the one you seek," J'zargo said.

S'maash and Zolara shrugged.

"I suppose that's it," Zolara commented.

"I'll go to Morthal. First I will give you a letter for my brother. Then you round up Brelyna. By the time I return, we should all be set to go," S'maash instructed.

The remainder of the day passed on slowly as S'maash completed his errands and handed the note to Zolara for delivery to Morrowind. S'maash then left for Morthal. The cart ride was rather quick and he arrived late at night.

Morthal was a small town on the water. Several bridges connected the wooden homes. It was a rather quaint town with an air of mystery. A guard holding a torch looked S'maash over. He casted a Candle Light spell to better see.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, watch the magic," the guard said.

"Do you know where I can find Falion?" S'maash inquired.

"His house in the other side of the lake. Don't take any bridges and you'll get there with out a fuss," the guard replied.

S'maash followed the instructions. He passed a few one and two story houses before reaching a small house amidst a few others on the far side of the lake. S'maash peeked through a window and saw some feint light. He knocked.

"What is it? Can't you people leave me alone?" a haggard tone came back.

"Are you Falion?" S'maash yelled through the door.

"No. Now go away," the voice replied.

"Sir… I need to speak to you about Oblivion. I come from the College," S'maash said.

Some unintelligible grumbling bled through the door before it opened. The man on the other side was an aging Redguard. He looked S'maash over.

"You always interrupt people at all hours of the night?" Falion asked.

"No Sir, apologies but, I've been given a task by Hermaeus Mora. I thought you might be willing to help me," S'maash said.

Falion was hesitant. After a moment of gauging S'maash, he decided to invite the Dunmer into his home.

"Fine, tell me about this task," Falion demanded.

So S'maash gave the story once more. Falion was not taken aback.

"Finally something worth breaking away from my research. Listen, you don't have to wait 378 years. The Daedra speak in metaphors. Furthermore, the relics required are simple, Daedric weapons of any kind will do, the darkened star references is a special runic symbol used for Conjuration of the highest difficulty, the only real problem is obtaining the blood of the Daedric Lord you wish to confront," Falion clarified.

"I don't wish to confront anyone," S'maash said.

Falion sat down on the edge of his bed. The house was little more than one room with some old desks, chairs, and a fireplace. At one corner was an Alchemy Table, next to it an Arcane Enchanter. Several Soul Gems and potions were strewn about.

"Surely you jest," Falion replied.

"What do you mean?" S'maash asked.

"You don't just strut into Oblivion unnoticed. The plane is a manifestation of the Lord in rule. Mehrunes Dagon will feel your presence," he answered.

"I see… if that can't be avoided, so be it," S'maash replied.

Falion let out a stilted laugh.

"I won't help you get yourself killed," Falion rebutted.

"Sir please, you have to understand what I'm trying to accomplish, how far I've come, how close I am…" S'maash pleaded.

Falion adjusted his purple robes. They held a subtle and undefined glow about them.

"Mmm, well…. You're not going alone are you?" he asked.

"No, I should have three of the most competent companions with me," S'maash replied.

Falion eyed S'maash. He felt the power of his enchantments.

"You created your equipment?" Falion asked.

"Aye, and the equipment of my friends. We shall not be easily overcome," S'maash answered proudly.

"You're a damn fool!" Falion barked. "You don't understand what you're dealing with. The denizens of Oblivion are bad enough. You're wanting to traipse through the most dangerous plane of Oblivion. You're magick won't keep you safe… only your wits will."

S'maash nodded.

"I'll help you on one condition," Falion stated.

"What is it?" S'maash asked.

"….You must bring me a bound Dremora," Falion stated carefully.

"You want me to subdue a demon and bring it back with me?" S'maash asked.

"If you don't agree, I won't help you," Falion said bluntly.

S'maash gave a subtle shrug.

"Then I agree. How will I do this?" he asked.

"Take this scroll. Once you're ready to return, you'll cast this spell of Daedric Chains. The Dremora will have no choice but to follow you back.

One last word, Greater Sigil Stones are housed in a creation called a War Machine, a detestable construct created for the sole purpose of destroying any plane of reality. Inevitably, a portion of the War Machine will come back through the portal with you. Luckily, I have just the place in mind… we won't be doing it here of course.

Once you're all set, meet me at Dartwing Cave. Now leave me to my preparations," Falion ordered.

S'maash nodded. He exited Morthal and made his way back to Winterhold.

**Chapter Thirty Deadlands**

At the courtyard, before the College of Winterhold, four adventurers met for a most daunting task. A chilly wind blew errant snowflakes about as dark clouds obscured the sun. The statue of Shalidor appeared to stand in approval as it watched over the small group.

"I'm so glad you made it brother. Having you by my side fills me with confidence," S'maash said, happily.

"It's my pleasure to be here. I could never pass up a chance to stride through the planes of Oblivion," S'maath added.

"This will be a most dangerous quest," Brelyna remarked.

"A profitable one to boot," Zolara added, comically.

"I see why you needed a seasoned warrior brother…" S'maath said in jest.

"Aye. Let us make last minute preparations then. To my room," S'maash said.

The four convened in S'maash room, inside the Hall of Countenance.

"Do we need any enchantments?" S'maash asked the group.

"No," Both Zolara and Brelyna announced.

S'maath stood smiling. He still wore the Glass Armor his brother had enchanted during their previous journey.

"I do not require anything but you do," S'maath proclaimed.

"How so?" S'maash asked.

"I have brought you gifts," S'maath announced.

From a large travel trunk, one everyone had eyed previously in wonder, S'maath produced an ancient set of armor. It was eggshell white with hints of beige. The bony equipment was ominous in appearance.

"Bone Mould Armor?" S'maash asked.

"Aye, even the fine Nords of Skyrim have nothing so… terrifying," S'maath commented.

"Where did you get this?" S'maash asked as he looked over the individual pieces.

"Ilteriel crypts," S'maath replied.

It was their ancestor's armor. S'maash saw one more piece in the trunk, a beautiful Elven Greatsword. It's golden hue and feathery filigree was gorgeous.

"You robbed our ancestors' grave?" S'maash asked in disbelief.

"Not robbed… borrowed. S'mael was the greatest warrior of our bloodline. I have my equipment and it will one day lay ensconced in my own burial chamber. Should either one of us live long enough to have children, they may one day borrow my armor, and I will be proudly looking down upon them," S'maath said.

S'maash smiled as he shook his head.

"Then I shall have to enchant this," he replied.

He looked to everyone.

"By all means, take your time," Brelyna offered.

S'maash took the new equipment to the Arcane Enchanter and set to work. In a fashion similar to his current equipment, he bestowed enchantments upon the Bone Mould Armor fortifying his new sword and spell style of fighting. Of all the pieces, the helmet was perhaps the most terrifying. S'mael's old helmet was designed to resemble the head of a Dragon, or rather the skull of one.

Upon completion of his task, he nodded to the group.

"Off to Dartwing Cave then," Zolara said.

Clamor of cheers ensued. The group left Winterhold for their next adventure. After some travel across the paved road, they cut off, down a beaten path. From there, it was not long before they saw the entrance of their destination, through a blustery snowstorm.

Dartwing Cave's interior was laden with ice. The short, round, entrance chamber was bedecked with tapestries. These dark cloths portrayed the Necromancer's symbol, a skull surrounded by hands. An unseen source of lighting made it an easy journey into the cave's deep. At the center of a large room, with not so much ice, stood Falion.

"Welcome to my workshop. This is where I perform rituals most minds cannot grasp," he announced.

Four stone pillars stood in support of the chamber. Worn shelving lined the walls. On the ground was an evil-looking depiction of the Mage's symbol, an eye over a pentagram. Oddly, the eye was closed and the pentagram was actually a heptagram, a seven-pointed star.

"There is no time to waste," Falion said, holding a bottle with glowing red and black liquid. "This is the Blood of Dagon. With this substance I will hone upon his very essence, Deadlands. Please enter the design on the floor."

Once everyone gathered, Falion drew a Daedric Dagger, a red and black blade with sharp, serrated edges and hooks.

"Hold still," Falion ordered.

He passed to each person and placed a small cut upon their forearms. A single drop of blood from each dripped onto the design at their feet. He then took the Blood of Dagon and traced the four-pointed star in the design. Starting from the other end, he then traced the three-pointed star.

"Soltak. Malakar. I force this reality bend to my will. Dagon. Alatar. Send these warriors to Deadlands," Falion announced, dramatically.

A red glow erupted from the star at the group's feet.

"Whoa!" Zolara exclaimed in surprise.

"Remember now! You cannot return until you break the anchor from Dagon's plane!" Falion yelled.

A violent sound like burning wind had assaulted the room.

"How do we do that?" Brelyna yelled back.

"Just take the Greater Sigil Stone from the War Machine's interior. It will suffice!" Falion screamed.

A flash of blinding red light forced the group to shut their eyes, then darkness, silence. They opened their eyes, a vast wasteland was revealed.

"My goodness," Brelyna whispered.

The group stood upon what looked like a gray stone ground. Cracks and crevices glowed with lava flowing beneath. Around them, more of the lava bubbled, a heat wavered off the surface of the death pool.

"Where do we go?" S'maath asked.

S'maash looked around. It was obvious the only path was before them. A bridge-like structure led to a spire in the distance. S'maash took the lead, walking carefully. Above them, an oppressive sky of red clouds thundered with fiery lightning.

"I had not expected this… perhaps I will wait for you here," Zolara said in jest.

His joke was lost on the group as they were mesmerized by the wickedness of Deadlands. They pressed onward. As they covered the stone ground, it grew gradually smaller. Menacing lava beckoned from either side. Carefully, they made it to a narrow section. From ruined arches, hung sacs of skin, large and bulky. Zolara prodded at one.

"I think there is something in here," he said.

After a second to check it, Zolara found a Silver Ring and two Septims. There were a few more from several other arches along the span of the bridge.

"Come, we should make haste," S'maath said.

The Dunmer brothers maintained the lead. As they came ever closer to the spire before them, they encountered two Scamps, devilish denizens of Oblivion. Scamps were covered in shades of brown fur and were man-like in appearance, though they possessed goat legs and twisted faces. Their high-pitched grumbles were less than threatening, as were their Fire Balls.

S'maath ran out to them. With one powerful swing of his Malachite blade, he cut one in half. S'maash charged the other. Seeing its comrade defeated, the Scamp tried to run away but S'maash impaled from the rear upon his new blade, lifted it off the ground then smashed back onto the stone beneath him.

"That was a gruesome display," Brelyna commented.

"Aye, and simple too," S'maath added.

"They say Scamp Skin can be used in alchemical studies," Brelyna added.

Zolara wasted no time obtaining samples. Afterwards, they continued to the spire. It was a very tall tower, forged from Daedric metals. Like all things from Deadlands, it possessed a subtle glow of red, giving an eerie contrast with the darkness of the steel.

"It looks as though these towers are connected," S'maash said, looking around.

"Yes, this one appears to have a bridge to that one over to our right," Brelyna said.

"But where is this War Machine?" Zolara asked.

"Likely beyond those immense barred gates," S'maath said, pointing to the distance.

It was obvious that the towers and bridges had to be traversed in order to arrive at or around the gates.

"We could jump around the dark gray mountains blocking our path. Or, we could constantly heal as we swim through the lava," Zolara suggested.

"You try that, we will be more sensible," S'maath retorted.

"Fine… if you want to do it your way," Zolara said in resignation.

They entered the first spire through a malevolent looking door. It seemed as though the steel had been beaten to provide the appearance of a face, but it may have just been the odd lighting of Dagon's plane. Naturally, the interior was reminiscent of the exterior.

A gray stone floor held a sort of round fire pit. The guttural grumbling of angry Dremora rang throughout as a few demons clad in Daedric Armor brandishing War Hammers came from alcoves in the round spire.

"I smell weakness," a Dremora muttered.

A few bolts from overcharged Walls of Thunder provided by both Brelyna and Zolara were more than ample for the weak Caitiffs. The sound of steel skittering over stone prevailed, then the scintillating drone of the spire itself returned.

"Enjoy your last breath," Brelyna said.

"Well… it's up, we must travel," S'maash said.

So the group looked up. It was a straight shot with a spiraling balcony. The balcony was laden with red and black bony hooks protruding from the interior wall. So the group looked from where the Caitiffs came and found a door. The door led into a corridor on a slight incline and it led to a juncture providing a way only left or right. The group took the right, also at an incline, where they were greeted by a Spider Daedra.

"Ack! Kill it!" Zolara demanded.

Upon seeing the intruders, the spider with voluptuous lady torso, rubbed her heaving bosom while casting a protection spell. The Elf brothers again took charge and made an easy kill from the denizen of Oblivion.

Zolara studied it for a second then removed eggs and webbing.

"I'll bet these will come in handy," he said.

The group came upon the door the Spider Daedra was guarding and pushed beyond. They found themselves back in the center of the tower, only about a story higher and on the spiraling balcony. The group of charged, boots pounding, up the circular path, where they cut through a few more Caitiffs. In their defeat, the enemies either slid down the balcony or fell over with a resounding _thud_.

"Quickly," S'maash said.

The group continued up the long, spiraling balcony until finally coming upon another twisted door. Beyond it, a corridor to their left led at a sloping decline, the one to their right, at an incline. So they continued up. During the rush, S'maash broke through a trip wire. A massive, red, sword-shaped blade came crashing down but the ever vigilant, Zolara noticed the situation unfold in the knick of time. He shoved the Dark Elf hard causing him to stumble over and onto the ground, safe from the trap.

"Apologies friend, didn't want to have to carry pieces of you back to Tamriel," Zolara said with an Argonian smile.

S'maash stood and looked at the slowly rising sword, the blade was serrated and mean. He was glad to have only fallen over. The remainder of the group looked around briefly before continuing into the large room beyond the trap.

Four pillars with thick spikes were positioned in the center of the room, less for support and more for fear. A grumbling caught their attention as a Daedroth entered from the far end of the red room. Daedroth were monstrous demons, scaled and large mouthed, like crocodiles. The sandy colored, giant stumbled in awkwardly, tail flickering behind him, as though he was too big for the room. It had a similar idea as the group of adventurers, casting a protection spell and enveloping its body with a soft glow.

Zolara wasted no time, immediately firing erratic bolts of purple lightning, Wall of Storm. Brelyna followed suit with her own Wall of Ice, frozen shards of magicka covered the ground. Once the beast was cold and slow, the Dunmer brothers hacked at it with their greatswords.

S'maash moved off to the Daedroth's right. He slashed low at the knee joint causing great damage. His brother moved to the demon's left, in a spinning motion. He brought his own blade across with the speed and momentum of his turn. It hacked clean through the Daedroth's arm. S'maash, as quickly as he initiated the first strike, brought his blade around, over his left shoulder then his head, where he held firm for a half-second. He then brought the blade down in a smooth strike.

The Daedroth, being so tall, was cut badly from the chest. Thick and dark blood poured from the wound. In a pathetic attempt to counteract, the Daedroth grumbled and reached out with a powerful claw. Because S'maash was already standing low to the ground from his power strike, the Daedroth easily knocked him to the ground. Then the continued blasts of magicka finally overtook the Daedroth. It collapsed dead.

"Ouch," S'maash said, standing.

S'maath met his eyes with a slightly comical expression. S'maash knew what was coming.

"S'wit," S'maath remarked.

"Yes, come on," S'maash answered.

After Zolara pilfered some Daedroth Teeth, the group continued into the hall from where the demon had emerged. Beyond the hall, were two doors. The group momentarily split as they checked the doors.

"Where does yours lead?" S'maath called out.

"Outside to the bridge," Brelyna answered.

"Then we have our path," S'maash said.

The group convened at Brelyna's door. Bursting through into the strange plane of Oblivion, the group ran across the balcony. The area outside the spire had placed them on a rather precarious bridge with no rails. The craggily stone did not look strong, but looks were deceiving. From their new position, they gauged their surroundings. Zolara pointed.

"Look, that must be the War Machine," he announced.

What they saw was nearly incomprehensible. The War Machine was a construct of Daedric steel, black with an eerie, red glow. Churning blades spun at the ends of what looked like horizontal pillars. It was unclear how the War Machine moved, but by the looks of it, it was creeping ever so slowly.

"Where is it going?" Brelyna asked.

They all traded glances. The portal they come through was no longer available. Falion had said, to return to Tamriel, they needed to retrieve the Greater Sigil Stone from inside the War Machine. S'maash wondered briefly._ What's the best way to do this?_ The War Machine was far below them. Several menacing mountains with sharp peaks kept them in place. While the bridge led to a second spire, that spire did not appear to lead anywhere else. Furthermore, they needed to get to a second, much higher bridge, to reach a gate. S'maash looked around when his concentration was broken.

"The second spire might lead us where we need to be," Zolara yelled over the droning of the War Machine.

"It's as good a plan as any," S'maath replied.

So they continued into the second spire. Much as the first, the interior possessed a red hue, and much as the first, they cut through a few Daedra before reaching the peak. The room was covered in some material not unlike batwings, though much sturdier. Two Dremora, one in black robes with a Daedric Greatsword and one in Daedric Armor with a Daedric War Hammer shouted insults as they attacked.

"I will feast on your heart," one claimed.

"I honor my Lord by destroying you," the other shouted.

The demons were not overly difficult to fight but after their defeat, the group found little other than some treasure in Hanging Sacs.

"There's nothing here," S'maash said.

"Not quite…" Brelyna rebutted.

On a portion of the round wall, she came to some large gears, built into the spire's structure, below them a lever. She pulled it and the gears rolled with deafening _clanks_.

"What now?" S'maath asked.

"Let's work our way back down and check the doors," S'maash suggested.

As they ran back down the batwings and through the doors, they began to sweat, except Zolara, from the exertion. Over an hour had passed since their arrival and they had not stopped running or fighting. Finally, they reached a door, leading outside.

"Whoa!" Zolara called out.

He had taken the forefront after opening the door and was beset by fear. Beyond the door was nothing but a few paces worth of bridge. Then the tower rumbled. The group held onto each other as well as pulled the Argonian back inside the spire. Before their eyes, the bridge extended. From the opposing end, a third spire also extended a bridge. Once met in the center, the bridge connected the spires.

"So we move to the next one?" S'maath asked.

As they crossed over, they did their best to observe their surroundings. They were very high up and the War Machine, immense as it was, was very far below them. From their new perspective it looked like a creeping mechanical Dragon with out a head, wings, or tail.

"Hopefully, from the looks of it, this next spire will put us where we need to be," S'maash said.

They pushed through the door into the spire expecting what the previous two had provided. The third spire, being shorter, held a lift of sorts, little more than round metal grating with several large holes.

"There's a switch over there. Let's take this down," S'maath said.

As he walked over to the switch, he passed several skeletons, some still bloody.

"Why all the dead bodies?" Zolara asked.

As he spoke, S'maath pulled the switch and a jolt moved through the group. The lift _clanked_ as it lowered them.

"Not sure…" S'maash said.

He was indifferent as he simply assumed they had died in the spire. After a moment, the reason became clear. The lift was lowering them onto several large pikes, built into the ground beneath.

"Move, move, move!" S'maath ordered.

They all did so by hopping off the lift several below to the ground. Upon landing safely they shook their heads in dismay and bolted through the only door in the spire. Outside, they were surprised to find themselves behind the War Machine.

**Chapter Thirty-One The War Machine**

A violent whining of spinning blades, and the clamor of Daedric gears, drowned out the fury of bubbling lava. Deadlands was rife with heat, danger, and the War Machine's ceaseless advance. Cautiously, S'maash and his group circled the back of the mechanical beast. A hatch at the rear's top portion suddenly sprung open. A Valkynaz covered in Daedric Armor sprung out.

"Death to intruders!" he grumbled.

The demon leapt off the War Machine and engaged the group in battle. As was custom, Zolara and Brelyna started a magickal flurry from the distance. S'maash and S'maath traded glances.

"Would like me to go first?" S'maath asked.

"Fine by me, but don't kill him. I'm going to bind this one for Falion," S'maash replied.

S'maath nodded, and not a second too soon, the Valkynaz had closed the distance.

"Come demon! Show me what you have," S'maath challenged.

The Valkynaz only grumbled in his guttural fashion as he swung his Daedric War Axe, a malevolent crescent blade of black and red steel, pulsating with raw power. S'maath, in a wide stance, parried the blow with the tip of his Glass Greatsword, the greenish metal reflecting the prevalent orange glow of Oblivion. S'maath licked his bottom lip as he tried to stare into the eyes of his opponent, who was wearing a full helmet.

The demon pulled with both hands causing the crescent blade of his axe to tug at the sword in S'maath's hands. Once the Dark Elf shuffled his feet forward, for balance, the demon thrust his axe into S'maath's chest. The sharp spike at the axe's head penetrated the Glass Armor, only slightly, enough to cause a little blood and pain. The Valkynaz laughed.

Frost and lightning had kept the demon slow but his brute force was cause for concern. S'maash, in his death-like Bone Mould Armor, stood with arms crossed, watching the battle. If need be, he was ready to cast Healing Hands. For the time, he simply enjoyed watching, learning from his brother's movements, and the Valkynaz's.

"Bow before me weakling," the Valkynaz called out.

"You're nothing hell scum," S'maath replied.

Mer and demon continued to battle for a few seconds longer. It was apparent, to some, that S'maath was not only holding back for fun, but that the magickal onslaught from the support team was having a large effect on the Valkynaz. Finally the demon took a knee. He looked up at S'maath who raised his sword over his head.

"NO!" S'maash yelled.

He jumped in before his brother killed the Valkynaz with the scroll in hand. He read from the parchment. Upon completion, the scroll caught flame and was reduced to ash. A blue glow enveloped the Valkynaz. He keeled over stiff, twitched once, then stood to dust off his armor. He looked down upon S'maash.

"How may I serve you?" he asked, begrudgingly.

"For now, you can take me to the Greater Sigil Stone," S'maash replied.

"Very well," the Valkynaz replied.

"Demon! What is your name?" S'maash asked as the Valkynaz started to walk off.

"Sultar Tuvik," he replied.

"Excellent. To the stone then," S'maash ordered.

Sultar Tuvik lead the group up several spikes protruding from the rear side of the War Machine. While the points were sharp, the spikes were easily grabbed at their base and functioned as a ladder up to the hatch, Sultar Tuvik had sprung from. After he dropped inside, the others followed suit.

The War Machine's interior was not vastly dissimilar from the spires, hard looking steel, and orange glow, too many noisy gears. A narrow hallway led to five doors; two on either side, and one at the front. The Valkynaz turned to face his master.

"Stand aside," S'maash ordered.

The demon obeyed. Zolara took S'maash shoulder.

"Grabbing this stone is supposed to break the spell that sent us here right?" he asked.

"So Falion said…" S'maash answered.

"Then before you take it… let me have a look around," Zolara stated. "Brelyna, come to me."

"What is it?" she asked, impatiently.

While she was glad to have come on the journey, she was just as glad to be done with it.

"Help me search these rooms for something," he said.

"I'll help, brother be ready to take the stone," S'maath added.

S'maash nodded as the others took a few minutes to search. Less than seconds later, a battle erupted. There had been denizens lurking behind the closed doors of the War Machine. The trio made quick work of a Spider Daedra, a Flame Atronach, a few Scamps, and a Caitiff. The low ceiling made it difficult for S'maath to fight properly but the enemies were not altogether powerful.

"Are we all set then?" S'maash asked, once they reconvened.

"Yes," Brelyna answered.

"Anything good?" S'maash asked.

"Nothing overly special but any treasure is god treasure," S'maath replied.

Zolara winked at the comment. S'maash sighed then turned to the final door. It was locked. He slowly looked up in exasperation then he turned to the demon.

"Sultar, open this door," S'maash demanded.

"Yes my lord," Sultar Tuvik replied.

He did in fact have the key. Once the door was open, S'maash and the band of adventurers moved inside. The room was little more than an altar, the Greater Sigil Stone floating precariously in the air. Beneath the garnet-colored, pulsating, stone were uneven square-like levels of rough red steel. They were something like concentric platforms, which sunk into one another. Several Daedradi symbols covered the entirety of the room, and from the ceiling a few stalactites hung low.

S'maash did not dawdle. He reached out for the stone but received only blackness instead. There was nothing. He was unconscious, they all were, but only briefly. With a deep inhalation, they all came to.

"What in Oblivion…?" Brelyna asked.

They felt as though they had just vomited, or were about to.

"We've stopped moving," S'maath remarked.

It took them a few seconds to stand up. Some unseen force had evidently floored them.

"Aye…" S'maash answered.

He shrugged and carefully reached for the stone again. That time he was able to take it. Everyone looked around expecting to be transported out of the War Machine. S'maash turned to Sultar Tuvik. Before he uttered a word, a familiar voice was heard screaming insults from the War Machine's exterior.

"Falion?" Brelyna asked.

They all ran back to the hatch. Upon opening it, they found themselves inside Dartwing Cave.

"Well, well, I didn't really expect you to make it out of there," Falion greeted them.

"Falion, this is Sultar Tuvik," S'maash said, pointing at the demon.

"Excellent. Transfer control over to me," Falion ordered.

"How uh… how do I do that?" S'maash asked.

Zolara laughed openly.

"Tell him to serve me," Falion said, incredulously.

"Aye. Sultar Tuvik, you are to serve your new master, Falion," S'maash ordered.

"As you will…" Sultar replied.

"Alright well, when you came crashing through, several of the Sigil Stones powering the weaponry fell about the ground. You can take them if you like, being an enchanter, I've no doubt you can find a use for them. I have much work to do now but please, send for me when you have completed your quest to restore the Heart of Lorkhan. I would very much like to see it," Falion said.

"Of course. Master Falion?" S'maash asked.

"Yes?" he asked in turn.

"No… nothing. Apologies," S'maash said.

"Back to Winterhold for a drink then?" S'maath asked, looking everyone over.

"Aye, will you be staying this time?" Brelyna asked.

"Perhaps… I must say I'm interested in seeing this ordeal come to a conclusion," S'maath replied.

The brothers looked at one another.

"Feel free to stay as long as you like," S'maash added.

They left Falion to his own devices for drinks and merriment.

**Chapter Thirty-Two Full Circle**

An uneventful return trip to Winterhold ensued after the group said their goodbyes to Falion. Upon their return, they all took to the Midden, to see what was going to happen. Standing before the Oblivion Forge, S'maash looked at the mount, where upon the Sigil Stone once sat.

"It does not appear as though the Great Sigil Stone will fit properly," Brelyna commented after gauging the stone's design.

It was true. The Greater Sigil Stone was closer to being diamond-shaped with rough edges and much larger than the Sigil Stone. With a subtle shrug, S'maash held the glowing red stone over the circular pedestal. As if the forces of magicka themselves took control, the stone hovered eerily above the pedestal. It spun slowly while bobbing up and down.

"Well, that's something. What will you do next?" Zolara asked.

All eyes were on S'maash. He took the fragments of the Heart of Lorkhan, the obsidian-like jewels held a fiery glow beneath the stony surface. He placed both fragments inside the offering box, along with the Daedric Heart Gem, once more.

"You might consider taking a step back before I do this," S'maash suggested.

And so they did. S'maash used the lever. For a second, nothing happened. Then a subtle hum emanated from the Greater Sigil Stone. As its glow amplified, the stone spun faster and faster. Soon, shooting rays of red light danced across the group. A final blast of blinding red ensued. Then, the light and the humming died out. Upon the Oblivion Forge sat the Heart of Lorkhan, a crystalline, beating heart of red stone. An unnerving, hallowed echo came from the Heart of Lorkhan. It was alive.

"You've-," S'maath started speaking.

A violent tremor ensued for a moment, demanding the attention of the group. A purple flash of light came from behind them. When they turned about, their eyes grew wide in horror, their mouths agape in wonder. A veiny mass of purple tentacles writhed about itself. Many eyes sat upon an oblong and expressionless face. Razor sharp teeth grew every which way from something resembling a mouth. Hermaeus Mora appeared in true form and filled most of the space behind S'maash and friends.

"Excellent," the Daedric Prince's voice was different, a gurgling and guttural groan. "You have completed a portion of your quest, young Dark Elf. Now, you will return full circle. Where your own heart lies and deep beneath the fires you will travel.

S'maash, S'maash, you will place the Heart of Lorkhan where it truly belongs, in the chest of the God of Tamriel, in the center of Mundas. A gift for my servant."

Hermaeus Mora's words were incomprehensible. S'maash was about to ask a question when the writhing mass of slithering tentacles vomited the gift of which it spoke, a set of red, crystal gauntlets, not unlike the Heart of Lorkhan.

A second tremor ensued, causing dust and debris to fall from the ceiling. Hermaeus Mora vanished in an eruption of purple light. Still in shock, everyone kept their eyes on where the Daedric Prince had been, except S'maash who bent down to take the faceted gauntlets. They were more than beautiful. They were simply sublime.

A flash of pain broke through S'maash skull. Ringing assaulted his ears. He dropped the gauntlets and doubled over. A voice erupted inside him.

"_How dare you! Blasphemer, you have caused me once more to lose my hold in Tamriel. Curse you and your kind, Dark Elf,"_ it was the voice of Azura.

With the pain gone and her link broken, S'maash realized his friends were trying to help him stand.

"I'm fine. Azura cursed me for creating the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash stated.

Emptiness took hold of him for a moment.

"I thought it was those eerie gauntlets," S'maath said.

"What are they?" Zolara asked.

"I don't know," S'maash answered.

"We have something else to worry about, those strange things Hermaeus Mora said. I don't understand what we're supposed to do," Brelyna added.

"We should see Tolfdir. Brother will you stay?" S'maash asked.

"Aye, this entire ordeal has me rather worried. Besides, there aren't any outstanding contracts at the Reyda Tong at the moment," he replied with a smile.

As usual, they found Tolfdir in the Hall of the Elements giving lessons. J'zargo was with him that afternoon. The class was reviewing the utilities of summoning bound weapons. Tolfdir saw the group enter and the looks on their faces. He nodded to the Khajiit then met the group by the barred gate, beneath the arch.

"What is it? You all look rather grim," Tolfdir said.

"We have the Heart of Lorkhan and these strange gauntlets but the strangest thing was the words Hermaeus Mora left me with," S'maash said as he showed everything to Tolfdir.

As soon as S'maash produced the findings, Tolfdir grimaced. He made an attempt to shield the class behind him from seeing anything. He then rushed everyone into the Arcaeneum. At the counter, with Urag eyeing everyone quizzically, Tolfdir bid S'maash place everything on the wooden top.

"That heart is… well it makes me nervous," Tolfdir started. "And these gauntlets… the knuckles on these posses the same jewels as Sunder and Keening. They cannot be Wraithguard… I wonder. Urag, what do you make of all this?"

"Me? I just take care of books. I've tried nothing but stopping all this. Leave me out," the Orc demanded almost comically.

"Urag please? A tome? You must have something?" S'maash pleaded.

"I don't have anything. I fear nothing short of an Elder Scroll can tell you about what you have," Urag replied.

Everyone glanced at one another. For a moment, all they could do was shift their balance in awkward silence. They had stumbled upon something for which no one had any solid knowledge.

"We might try Aicantar?" Brelyna suggested.

"Or Falion for that matter," Zolara added.

Tolfdir heaved a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms.

"Or the Augar of Dunlain…" he added, begrudgingly.

The group turned to S'maash.

"Oh no, I'd rather not go through all that again," he replied.

"Even it is the only way?" S'maath asked.

S'maash looked down at his Bone Mould Boots for a second.

"Of course, I'm willing to try, but only as a last resort," he answered.

"I will send for Aicantar," Brelyna said.

"And I for Falion," Zolara added.

They all nodded in agreement. Between them all, someone would know something. A few hours passed by as the group of adventurers tried to get some rest. Echoes of wandering thoughts washed over their minds.

Because of pressing duties, Tolfdir and Brelyna returned to their teaching. This allowed Zolara, S'maash, and S'maath to reconvene. Again, they chose to meet in the Arcaeneum. At a small round table, they say adjacent a curving stone shelf built into the center of the book filled room. Passing out bits of fruit, Zolara spoke first.

"Hermaeus Mora generally instructs his champions… whatever he said must be taken at face value," Zolara remarked.

"But it sounded like metaphors to me," S'maath said.

"Hm, what was it he said first? You completed your quest. Go in a circle, where you heart lies, and travel under fire?" Zolara asked.

S'maash winced in reply. He reclined a little in the small, wooden chair. He held the round edge of the table in his left hand, tapping two fingers on the top.

"Well, full circle would be where you came from," S'maath cut in. "Back to Oblivion?"

"There's definitely fire there," Zolara commented.

"Maybe. I'm going to study those gauntlets," S'maash said and left abruptly.

S'maath watched him go but stayed speaking to Zolara for a while longer. S'maash walked out of the Arcaeneum and back to his room. He drew the ruby-like gauntlets and placed them on the Arcane Enchanter. While he had no intentions of attempting a disenchanting ritual, it helped him to focus.

Candlelight danced off the many facets of the gauntlets, off the gems in the knuckles. _Of course!_ S'maash drew Sunder and Keening and brought them all together. Nothing remarkable happened, so S'maash grit his teeth and slid his hands inside the gauntlets. Still nothing happened, so he took hold of Keening and Sunder. Everything came alive with a vibratory force. The pulsating power reverberated so subtly, but so rapidly that it created a great difficulty in holding the tonal items. Finally, a slight grunt escaping his lips, S'maash put Kagrenac's Tools down. He looked at the gauntlets.

"What are these?" he asked out loud.

There was no answer. He sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes staring at the equipment lying on the Arcane Enchanter. After a quick adjustment of his robes, he folded his arms over his chest then lied back to stare at the ceiling. A sudden sound demanded his attention. It was a knock.

"Yes?" he called out.

"Falion has arrived," S'maath's voice bled through the door.

"Have I been asleep? Oh well," he replied softly to himself.

S'maash stood, opened the door, then took the tonal tools.

"We're meeting in the Arcaeneum once more?" S'maash asked.

His brother nodded in reply. Together they walked back to the Arcaeneum. Brelyna and Tolfdir joined them. They all nodded to Falion.

"Where is it?" Falion asked rudely.

"Where is what?" S'maash asked in return as he gingerly placed the tonal tools on a table.

"Why, the Heart of Lorkhan of course," Falion answered.

"It's safe for the moment. Hermaeus Mora gave me orders but I don't understand them. I also don't understand what I'm supposed to do with all this," S'maash explained pointing at the tools.

"What did the Daedric Prince tell you?" Falion asked.

They all took seats after pushing some table together. Even Urag sat at the far end. S'maash reiterated the instructions. Falion laughed openly for far too long.

"Well? Either tell us the joke or clear this mess up," Zolara said.

"Of course, my apologies. Where are you from S'maash?" Falion asked.

"Morrowind… L'thu Oad by Narsis," he replied.

"So go full circle. Go home," Falion replied.

S'maash looked around the room. Everything was so evident.

"By the Nine! Return to Damlzthur and travel under the fires. Remember brother, it was full of lava?" S'maash asked.

"And do what?" S'maath asked, incredulously.

"Well, that I don't know. Kagrenac's Tools must play a role, and the way they vibrate when held with these gauntlets is nothing short of strange," S'maash said.

It was during the short pause in conversation that one more entered. Aicantar had arrived.

"Greetings Brelyna, Zolara, S'maash, and everyone. Glad to be here," the Altmer replied. "What have I missed?"

And so they caught him up. Aicantar stood and paced about, a habit he picked up from his uncle.

"So the final question is, what to do with these tonal tools?" he asked more from himself than the others. "I'm sure it's rather simple. After all they are tools. Yes. Perhaps?"

"Aicantar!" a few called.

"What? Oh sorry. Yes. I believe I have an answer," he said approaching the table. "Kagrenac's Tools are required to create not destroy."

S'maash and his brother traded glances. Brelyna winced. Tolfdir stroked his beard. Zolara looked away, and Falion snickered.

"The Nerevarine used them to destroy the Heart of Lorkhan," S'maash said, rather meekly.

"Yes but, a fist may smash into your flesh, dealing damage while an open palm might rub the same damage away," Aicantar rebutted.

"Are you suggesting we rub the Heart of Lorkhan with those tools?" Zolara asked, askew.

"Haha, no, well… not exactly. Listen, if you know where we are going, we should go at once," Aicantar suggested.

"We?" Brelyna asked.

"Are we not all going into Damlzthur?" Aicantar asked.

"It is quite dangerous my friend," Tolfdir said.

"We can't let S'maash go alone, or even with just his brother," Brelyna commented.

"I'll go. Truthfully, the gift of a bound demon was worth quite a bit more than I anticipated. While that, Sultar Tuvik finishes his tasks, I have nothing else that requires my attention. I will go," Falion interjected.

"I'm in," Zolara said with a shrug.

"Master Tolfdir? If I may be excused of my duties one last time," Brelyna pleaded.

He nodded in return.

"So there. With all these great warriors and mages I should be rather safe. Furthermore, I am a master Illusionist," Aicantar added.

It was agreed. Brelyna, S'maash, his brother, the Argonian, Falion, and Aicantar were traveling to Morrowind.

**Chapter Thirty-Three Paying Respects**

Heavy preparations were made for the final Journey. The group was certain that whatever waited for them beneath Damlzthur would surely provide a compromising situation. For a full week, after the agreement, the group traveled about Skyrim, making sure every end was covered.

They started with a journey to Markarth. Along the way, they made a stop by the Lord's Stone to receive its blessing, one of protection against physical and magickal forces. Next, they stopped in Morthal where Falion gathered everything he deemed necessary, including scrolls, potions, filled Soul Gems, and the like. While standing in his shack, and resting before continuing to Markarth, S'maash spoke.

"Master Falion?" he asked.

"Hm?" Falion replied while sifting through reagents at his Alchemy Table.

"I have heard you have spoken with the Dwemer, but it sounds unbelievable. Is it true?" S'maash asked.

The rest of the group, while cramped for the moment, perked up to listen.

"It is. You understand the Dwemer no longer reside in Tamriel. Like traveling to Moonshadow, one can move from plane to plane in a dream-like state. I call it Astral Projection.

So you see, I have never physically carried a conversation, but I have seen them and their world. It can be difficult to ground oneself in dreams but if accomplished, many things can be discovered," Falion explained.

"Curious. Anything that can help with our current quest?" Zolara asked.

"Not particularly, no," Falion began as he stuffed food and drink in his pack. "But observing them through the mist of dreams has given me an understanding of their reality."

"I can scarcely believe this. Uncle Calcelmo would have given anything to meet the Dwemer. Now I will do this for him," Aicantar commented.

He was saddened by the loss of his uncle, his mentor, and he looked away.

"I'm ready. We can continue to Markarth," Falion spoke, breaking the silence.

So the group took back to the cart and back to the road. Along the way, Falion provided a bit of Conjuration training to everyone, S'maath included, though he did not truly pay attention. Zolara was absolutely jubilant when he mastered the Summon Flame Thrall spell, a spell allowing the conjuring of a Flame Atronach bypassing the natural pull of Oblivion. In short, the Atronach stayed until it was defeated, or banished from Tamriel.

It was night when they reached Left Hand Mine, outside the walls of the city of stone. S'maash saw Colville standing guard. He was no longer wearing his blue, steel, Blades Armor. They nodded to one another but no words were spoken. S'maash felt a small pang of guilt and wondered if Colville knew what had taken place. _But it was needed friend_, he thought to himself.

Upon entry, Aicantar rushed to Understone Keep. The group split and the Dark Elf brothers stayed at the Silver-Blood Inn for a few hours while the mages followed Aicantar. The inn was alive with music, food, and good spirits.

"Two mugs of ale please?" S'maath called.

The brothers sat at the counter and joked about the trip to Damlzthur.

"Now remember, Alits can be very dangerous," S'maath said, snickering.

"You're an Alit," S'maash rebutted.

After a few hours of merriment, and forgetting their worries, the brothers were met by the remaining group.

"We're all set," Brelyna said.

"Aye," S'maash replied.

Their next stop took them by Whiterun. S'maash explained that as court wizard he owed allegiance to Thorald and needed to speak to him. Everyone cherished S'maash's loyalty and sense of duty, though they knew any order given by Thorald to take a pause would not be heeded.

The sun was high and warmed their skin when they arrived in Whiterun. S'maash left the group to their own devices and made for Dragonsreach. Inside, he approached Thorald and provided a recounting of his quest.

"Aye, come back alive or don't come back at all S'maash," Thorald said, half in jest.

S'maash stopped by his room, in the palace, to pick up a few things of his own, including some Bone Meal and Powdered Mammoth Tusk. He had plans to stop in Riften and speak to Balimund about improving their equipment and knew those specific ingredients were required to improve his new Bone Mould Armor.

And so they continued into Riften. It was dark when they arrived and Zolara had a suggestion.

"Haelga's?" he asked.

S'maash laughed openly while Brelyna scowled.

"What is it?" S'maath asked.

"He wants to bed a woman before we go," she answered.

S'maath smiled and shook his head.

"We might not come back. The least we can do is die with smiles on our faces," Zolara fired back.

So he left to find someone for the night.

"You two aren't going?" Brelyna asked.

"Too much on my mind, honestly," S'maash said.

"You must have someone back home," Brelyna said to S'maath.

He met her eyes.

"No, but I have met someone I would like to spend some time alone with," he answered.

"Oh?" she asked.

The others watched in silence for a few seconds.

"Perhaps myself, Aicantar, and master Falion can busy ourselves with discussion if the two of you would like to go for a walk," S'maash suggested.

And so they split once more. While S'maash and his group spoke of the Dwemer and other lores, Brelyna and S'maath spent a few hours walking around Riften. They all met at the Bee and Barb to sleep away their final few hours in town. At daybreak, they found Balimund working at his forge.

"Welcome back. Looking to protect yourself? Or deal some damage?" he asked them.

"Would you mind working on our equipment? We're on a journey back to Morrowind and need to be in the best condition possible," S'maash explained.

"You've been a good friend to me. That means something," Balimund answered.

After a few hours of making certain everyone's weapons and armor was in the best shape, S'maash paid Balimund for his services.

"This is it. Now we travel beyond the mountains into Morrowind. From there we'll move into Nishwal, south of Silgrad Tower, and hire a Silt Strider back to L'thu Oad. I've made this trip a few times as it is, so I know the best path through the mountains," S'maath said as he led the way out of town.

It took nearly a full day of hiking through slightly dangerous terrain. Along the way, they encountered a few Saber Cats and Bears but nothing overly powerful. Zolara practiced his Summon Flame Thrall spell. That alone was enough for most of the wild animals of Skyrim. Late at night, they reached the town of Nishwal.

It was a rather modest town. Other than a few homes and small shops, the only prominent structure was a temple. Few Dark Elves still worshipped the Tribunal. These small factions were often belittled. For that reason and others, Nishwal was not home to very many Dunmer.

After only a quick rest, S'maath purchased a Silt Strider ride back to L'thu Oad, explaining they could rest along the way. Several hours later, the Dunmer brothers were home. A nostalgic sadness crept into S'maash when they arrived.

"Make yourselves comfortable. I'm going to see Rosoleola and the others," S'maash said to the group.

"Aye. I will stop by the Reyda Tong as well," S'maath added.

The remaining members conversed among themselves as they took advantage of the modest commodities of the Ilteriel home. A cold wind had crept into Morrowind. It was rather late in the year. S'maash endured a few stares as flashes of recognition struck the citizens of L'Thu Oad. With his Bone Mould Helmet removed, everyone recalled the mohawk haired Dunmer, who was constantly in trouble with the elders of the quaint town. He smiled and nodded to them before entering the mages' workshop.

Naturally the shop was as he remembered it, nice wooden walls, carpeted flooring, torches and braziers casting flickering shadows. Past the entry was the corridor leading to the Arcane Enchanter, off to the right, the stairs leading to the Alchemy room. S'maash found Rosoleola as he had left him, bent over an Arcane Enchanter.

"Master," S'maash said.

"Hmm?" Rosoleola asked in his gruff voice.

As he turned, a moment of confusion brewed in the Altmer's eyes. Then he realized who stood behind him. He could not help but laugh heartily.

"And here I thought you left us all behind," Rosoleola said.

S'maash replied smiling, "I did but I am back to say I found what I was searching for."

"Oh?" Rosoleola asked.

S'maash pulled a seat up to the Enchanter, he knew his old master would not want to stop working for simple discussion. He recounted his travels.

"My, my… I would never have dreamed you would be the one to change the direction of magickal knowledge," Rosoleola commented.

The old wizard stood fully erect, like all Altmer, he was very tall. A look of pride momentarily passed over his face. Then his age and stress returned.

"So now you're going back to Damlzthur. I told you once, there's nothing but death and ash down there…" he said.

"I'll tread over death and ash to reach the center of Mundas and restore life to Tamriel," S'maash replied.

"Heh, you've grown, that's for certain," Rosoleola said.

"Tell the others, especially that Argonian, to kiss my blue butt. You were, are, the only one I ever respected. I want you to know, I'm doing this in part because you taught me well, so well, that I was able to discern that knowledge, which has been hidden from our eyes," S'maash answered sincerely.

"Well, I thank you for those kind words. S'maash, when you return, stop by one last time. It would bring this old High Elf some comfort to know that his student has stared death and ash in the face and lived to tell about it," Rosoleola said.

With that, S'maash nodded and took his leave. It was very late in the evening when S'maash returned home. His party was already waiting. They were all set to leave for Damlzthur.

"Excellent, I shall lead us to the Dwemer ruin," S'maath announced.

It was a long journey by foot. The group walked all night. They had decided to rest only when absolutely necessary. By the following evening, they arrived at the great door into Damlzthur.

"Here we are," S'maash said.

They pushed through and entered the ancient Dwemer city. Voices had to be raised in order to speak over the clatter of Dwemer machinery.

"Now can we rest? I have a cramp in my tail," Zolara complained.

"Aye, let us break for a moment," Brelyna said.

They set up camp just inside Damlzthur and slept for a few hours. Once everyone woke, ate, and readied themselves, the group followed S'maath into Damlzthur proper. The Dark Elf led them right to the large doors, the doors before the spiraling stone path down to the bubbling lava. The group looked at the walkway, there were no rails and a heat welled up from below.

"Goodness," Aicantar started. "It appears to lead into the lava."

"Perhaps not. We won't know until we reach the bottom," Falion added.

"If we can reach it," Brelyna said, furrowing her brow.

S'maash and S'maath made eye contact.

"We will reach it," S'maash said.

He took the lead, the others following single file. They walked carefully down the stone spiral, constantly circling left. The closer to the bottom they were, the hotter it was. Save the Argonian, they perspired profusely. After moments, the wavering heat and orange light obscured their vision to some degree.

The path did not appear to end at the lava but traveled beneath it. There was, however, a small bridge leading off to the right. An entrance shrouded in darkness sat before them. Like a mouth carved into the stone, it invited the group to what lay beyond. Brelyna casted Candle Light and they entered. It was little more than a short passage to a round, stone, door lined with Dwarven Metal. S'maash pulled it open and they entered.

**Chapter Thirty-Four To Roam the Darkness**

A long corridor sat before S'maash and friends. Several small gas lamps lit the way quite well, their small green flames did not flicker much.

"So much for Candle Light," Brelyna remarked.

Zolara narrowed his eyes as he began sniffing at the air.

"What are you doing?" Falion asked with a hint of condescension.

"You don't smell that?" Zolara asked.

The group traded glances.

"What do you smell?" S'maath asked.

"Sulfur? Perhaps something else as well, it's feint but present," Zolara answered.

"I don't smell anything," Aicantar added.

"Let's press on. Zolara, let us know if something changes," S'maash ordered.

"Aye," He answered.

They walked down the corridor. The walls differed from the rest of Damlzthur. Instead of hard looking gray stone, the walls around them were a soft beige and slightly grainy in appearance. Falion ran his hands across them, for only a second, as they walked.

There was no end in sight, only persistent darkness very far away. Their boots echoed ever so slightly as they continued their journey. An hour passed. Then two hours passed. Finally they had enough.

"Alright, let's take a moment here," Aicantar said, nearly pleading.

They all agreed. While eating, they began to ponder what might lie at the end of the eternal hall.

"Has there ever been any indication as to where the center of Mundas is or how to get there?" Brelyna asked.

"I've never read anything about it," Falion said.

"I honestly don't have a clue. If the stories are accurate, Kagrenac had not placed the Heart of Lorkhan at the center of Mundas and neither had Dagoth Ur," Aicantar added.

"When the Nerevarine defeated Dagoth Ur, it was beneath Red Mountain," S'maash said.

"Yes and Red Mountain is where the Heart of Lorkhan landed after falling from the Heavens," Falion said.

They grew silent again.

"Well… Hermaeus Mora sent us here," S'maash remarked.

No one had anything to say, so they rested in silence for a few moments.

"Right," S'maash said.

He stood and gathered everything. With a look of determination, he walked onward, the group followed suit. After a few more painstaking hours, the corridor seemed to have an end in sight. Upon arrival, it was just a turn, the corridor curved off to the left and at a slight decline.

"At least this is something," Zolara said.

They all gave a nod or headshake of accordance, stress, or exhaustion. After an inordinate time passed, Brelyna, who was at the forefront then, spotted something golden in the distance. She stopped abruptly then looked at the others behind her.

"What?" Aicantar asked.

"Something ahead," she said.

S'maash and S'maath took the lead.

"Careful," S'maash said.

"Why?" S'maath asked with subtle arrogance.

"Just be careful," S'maash replied with subtle condescension.

They chuckled and moved on. After a few dozen steps, the obstruction in the corridor became obvious, though there was no way to see what lied beyond until after the battle. A burst of steam blew from the brass-like piping, which held the Dwarven Centurion Keeper in place. The mechanical monster's gears let out a heavy groan. Like the other Centurions, it possessed a sword arm and hammer arm. Unlike the others, none of its joints or gears were exposed. A thick, scale-like plating, made of Dwarven Metal, covered the machine's movable parts. It stepped forward, ominously.

As a first course of action, S'maash overcharged Ebony Flesh and the soft glow overtook his armor. He then drew his new great sword, the green flames of Damlzthur gave it a glistening aura. The brothers charged to meet the machine.

Falion and Zolara summoned Bound Bows to assist while Brelyna and Aicantar were very careful to aim their Icy Spears over the heads of the brothers. It was not an overly difficult task as the Dwarven Centurion Keeper was well over twelve feet tall.

Purple arrows, shiny blue crystals of frozen magicka, and the clash of steel resonated between the walls of the corridor. S'maath was the first to reach the Keeper. He shuffled, left foot forward, and slashed at a downward angle. His Glass Greatsword cut a deep furrow into the plated shin of the Keeper. He tried to bring the sword back across his body for a second slash but the machine's hammer arm came down hard. S'maath blocked the blow with the long handle of his sword but the force of the Keeper knocked him back onto his seat.

S'maash had already reached the Keeper during his brother's attack. A purple arrow whizzed over his head as he spun around to his right. He brought his sword along with the momentum of his spin and hacked into the Keeper's thigh plating. It too had little effect so he quickly let go of the sword with his left hand. A flurry of purple bolts came from his palm as he unleashed a Wall of Storm spell. It was cut short by a surprise knee lift, delivered by the Keeper. S'maash flew back and skidded along the ground, his blade still anchored inside the Keeper's leg.

"By the Nine!" he said as he came to his feet.

The Keeper kept a steady a pressure by stepping forward, slashing with its sword one way, then the next. Again it would step forward, thrusting the massive hammer into the warriors and pushing them back. Several Icy spears and Bound Arrows pelted the menace but it did not slow.

The brothers incurred some bruising and loss of wind but anytime they took a real injury, they were healed by one of the mages' Healing Hands spells. The battle raged on for minutes, steel clamor echoing off the stone walls. After S'maash lost his sword in the Keeper, he attempted using Bound Swords but they were dismal at best. He finally took a chance to wrest the blade from the enemy, it was not altogether difficult.

As the blade slid out, the Keeper raised both arms so high they touched the ceiling. From grooves below its arm pits, billows of flame poured forth. The Resist Magicka enchantments came in handy but the brightness of the flames blurred the warriors' vision long enough for them to be brought down by a painful jarring in their respective heads, the Keeper had struck them with each arm.

"Enough! Get back here. We'll summon Atronachs!" Falion called out.

The brothers did not mind the suggestion and scrambled away from heavy metal feet. All of them, save S'maath, summoned one Atronach or another. Falion and Zolara, talented in Conjuration as they were, each summoned two Storm Thralls. The remaining three mages, summoned Frost Thralls in the hopes of freezing the metal galute over.

Again the Keeper let loose billowing flame and a steam filled corridor was the result of frozen magicka colliding with Dwemer fires. The Storm Thralls pounded their stone fists against the Keeper's plating, causing it to stagger back a few steps. All the while, Bound Arrows and Icy Spears flew at the Automaton. The swinging of sword and hammer crashed through one Storm Thrall then A Frost Thrall. As the battle raged on, a few of the Atronachs were defeated.

"Such power," Aicantar whispered in awe.

A heat grew in S'maash's face. Both he and S'maath traded a glance then rushed back into battle. While the corridor was wide enough to battle efficiently, it was not wide enough for them to get behind the Keeper with all the Atronachs in the way.

"Follow my lead!" S'maath called out.

He ran up to the metal beast and spun his sword over his head. Once the pommel faced the ceiling he brought the blade down with all his might, piercing the Keeper's foot and securing it to the stone floor. S'maash watched him carefully and repeated the same maneuver. With both feet nailed to the ground, the keeper fell backwards from the Atronachs' charge.

A steady rush of magickal attacks persisted upon the floored Keeper. S'maash froze the enemy over with Wall of Ice, Brelyna and Zolara fired a great deal Fire Balls, Aicantar and Falion followed suit with Wall of Storm. The Automaton thrashed and beat its weaponized arms against the surrounding stone but to no avail. With a final metallic groan, the automaton fell to pieces. The group of adventurers let out sighs of exhaustion.

"By the Gods, it is over," Zolara remarked.

"Aye and not a moment to soon," Brelyna added.

The brothers reclaimed their swords.

"Well, well, time to see what lies beyond," S'maath said.

A quick search of the Dwarven Centurion Keeper revealed a Grand Soul Gem, Dwemer Gears, Cogs, and a Centurion Dynamo Core. The spinning orb of power was of interest to Aicantar and he took it into his travel pack. Beyond the fallen machine was the metal stand in which it was formerly mounted, and behind it, was a round gate. Vertical Dwarven Metal bars blocked the group from a small room. They tried to open the gate.

"Here," Falion said.

He pulled a lever. They had overlooked it as it was obscured by the Automaton's stand. Upon pulling the lever, the gate opened towards them. A round room was behind the gate, a lever at its center. A set of four gears were built into the ground.

"A lift," Aicantar said as he looked at the ceiling.

"I assume this takes us down," S'maash said.

"We will see," Falion said, motioning to Aicantar.

He pulled the lever and the ground felt as though it fell away from them. The lift was taking them down at a phenomenal rate. A rush of wind from below accosted the group. For minutes the sound of churning gears and sliding stone echoed. The lower the lift took them the darker the small shaft grew. Soon it was pitch-black and Brelyna casted Candle Light. The wavering orb of light struggled to stay overhead. Then the lift slowed before a second round gate, a lever built into the stone next to it. S'maash pulled it and the gate came open, before them, only blackness.

**Chapter Thirty-Five Reaching Beyond Darkness**

"Blackreach," Aicantar whispered in astonishment.

"What's that?" S'maath asked.

"Blackreach is a city below Skyrim. A place the Dwemer found when digging below the world. They found a way adjoin their cities. Mzinchalft, Alftand, Raldbthar, they all connected below Skyrim," Falion explained.

"Then we are below Skyrim?" S'maath asked.

"We could not be," S'maash replied.

"Certainly not," Falion started, "This is similar to Blackreach, though I do not know if it ties other Dwemer cities together."

Slowly, they exited the lift and looked about. A thin mist slightly obscured their vision. Off in the distance, they detected a source of light. They treaded carefully beneath Brelyna's Candle Light. The vastness before them was so dark all the mages casted Candle Light in hopes of revealing a path.

"The Dwemer lived comfortably in Blackreach using the Falmer as their slaves. Once the Dwemer left for other worlds, the Falmer made it their twisted refuge, the darkness perfect for their senses.

I have, however, seen a strange orb, a Dwemer sun if you will, crafted by masters, perhaps even Kagrenac himself. I cannot fathom what awe inspiring creations we will see here," Falion commented.

The group had little to say. Magickal light revealed a black stone under their feet. It was craggily and rough. A great many, sharp, stone hills lined the area, but only so far as they could see. Zolara came to a halt.

"Hold. I fear we may lose our way," he said.

"Where are we going anyway?" S'maath asked.

"I do not know," S'maash answered, quietly.

"I will employ a set of Fire Runes as we did below Mzulft," Zolara said.

"Excellent idea," S'maash said.

As they continued walking, S'maash and Zolara recounted their experiences. When the time came, Brelyna also told of the time when they had gathered the fragment of the Heart of Lorkhan. Zolara left many Runes, a feint orange glow to follow back to the lift.

"Do you think there are Falmer here as well?" Aicantar asked.

"Difficult to say. The Snow Elves were residents of Skyrim, not Morrowind, but a great many years have passed. If these underground kingdoms connect then we might come across some of the Falmer… if not, then I shudder to think what we will come across," Falion said.

An indeterminate amount of time passed but with no real sense of direction or change in light, it was difficult to tell if the group had traveled far or not. Looking behind them, they could no longer see the lift. A few orange glows indicated Zolara's Runes were effective. He laid down well over two dozen and had since lost count.

S'maash came to halt and scanned about. There were four areas far, far away in the darkness were a white glow sat inviting them.

"What do you think?" Brelyna asked him.

"I think we should strive for one of the glows and hope for a clue," he replied.

"Sound thinking," Aicantar said.

"Which one?" S'maath asked.

S'maash shook his head. He did not care.

"Falion?" S'maash asked.

"The one on our left," Falion replied.

"Good as any I suppose," Zolara remarked.

So they continued. Hunger and thirst set in, so they ate and drank as they walked. Questioning his surroundings, Zolara casted a Mage Light spell overhead. Like Candle Light, the orb of light allowed one to see but it did not stay over the caster. Instead, it sailed away until reaching a solid object. There it would stick, lighting the way. Here, it did not stick. It sailed away overhead. Zolara stopped for a second. He hoped, soon, it would reveal the ceiling. Seconds passed before a glimmer shone.

"So far away," he said under his breath.

He then jogged over to the rest of the group. They continued walking. Sometimes the terrain traveled on a decline and the glow beyond vanished from sight. At other times, the terrain lifted them a ways and the glow was easily visible. No matter how far they traveled, how long they walked, they did not seem to come closer. S'maash grew angry.

"Alright, that's it," he said.

"What is it?" Brelyna asked.

They all came to halt and S'maash threw his pack on the ground.

"I'm making a fire. We should rest for a while," he said.

The group was not in discordance. It did not take long for them to produce some firewood and cast Flames upon the bundle. Fearing an attack from within the darkness, they took turns standing guard. Some of them were too exhausted from travel to stay awake. Aicantar was the first to sleep. While lying on his back,

Zolara played with Mage Light by sending the little orbs of light off into the expanse above him.

"Falion, do you have any suggestions?" S'maash asked.

"I do not, suffice it to say, we must continue soon," he replied.

Brelyna and S'maath sat together. He placed an arm around her shoulder and she leaned her head against him. S'maash stretched his muscles after unfurling his sleeping roll. Zolara eyed him. S'maash's back was turned, so Zolara sent a Mage Light at him. As he turned it stuck to his chest.

"N'wah!" S'maash said as he slapped at the magickal ball of light.

They chuckled at the comical display.

"I hope we come to a resolution soon," S'maash said.

"It would be a travesty to have to turn back because we did not pack enough food," S'maath said.

"Aye," Falion replied.

"Tell us about your dealings with the other planes, Master Falion," Zolara said.

"Certainly. I have been to every plane of Oblivion, Cold Harbour possibly being the most disturbing. While it is not the most dangerous plane, seeing everything you hold dear covered in blood, ash, and excrement has a greater effect than simple death. Hermaeus Mora's Apocrypha, was rather incomprehensible, endless shelves of black books and the ghosts of those who seek knowledge. I did not spend much time there, as I had no desire to become one of those ghosts," Falion explained.

"What about the Dwemer plain?" S'maash asked.

"Hmm, I heard them use a word over and over. Being versed in various Dwemer dialects, I had to assume it was the word for their new home, as I had never come across that word before. They called it Xranthrn,." Falion answered.

"And what did you see there?" S'maath asked.

Brelyna then turned her back to S'maath and laid her head in his lap. With eyes closed she listened to them converse before falling asleep.

"I saw a world composed entirely of machinery. Most of the constructs were beyond my grasp. They found a world containing a great deal Aetherium, a metal existing between the cracks of reality," Falion said.

"What?" S'maash asked.

"Every plane has some Aetherium, its properties are unknown even to myself, but it appears to exist in very little quantities, in most places. I heard the Dwemer had a forge here in Skyrim, but that might only be legend.

At any rate, in Xranthrnl they had much, which could mean they still travel from one place to another, acquire the metal, and bring it back to their home. I saw great columns and domes fashioned from the ephemeral, blue, metal. Clockwork the size of kingdoms lined their deep caves.

Every day they toil, building, building more and more complex machines. In Tamreil, they harnessed the energy of stars. The Gods only know what they are capable of today," Falion said.

"We should rest… I will take first watch," S'maash said.

With that, they took turns sleeping. S'maash could not sleep. Though he was tired, too many ideas played inside his head. _What will be accomplished when I place this Heart of Lorkhan where it belongs?_ There were no answers. He kept his eyes glued to the glow on the dark horizon.

After a few hours, he grew sleepy and yawned. Aicantar rose and looked at him.

"Would you like to rest?" Aicantar asked.

"Very much, thank you," S'maash said.

As soon his head hit the pillow, he was out. In his deep sleep, he dreamt only of blackness. The ruffling of bed rolls and packs woke S'maash. He was still tired but wondered how long he had slept. After a little stretch, he stood. Everyone was up.

"Ready for more walking in he darkness?" S'maath asked.

"Aye," S'maash replied, reluctantly.

Camp was dismantled and they took off in the direction of the glow. Candle Light spells were cast to illuminate the way. As before, several minutes passed on, begrudgingly, as they treaded ever carefully. A sudden metallic scurrying grew over the silence. They halted with narrowed eyes as they peered beyond their magickal light.

"Sounds like a Dwarven Spider," Aicantar remarked.

For seconds, they stood still. Finally, the magickal lights died out. Once their eyes adjusted, they saw a feint, purple glow to their right. It was not unlike a purple sparkle of electricity.

"You're right, Aicantar," Falion said.

He then let loose an Icy Spear at the purple glow. Upon striking the Dwarven Spider, the glow rolled about. When it ceased movement, the frosty glow of Falion's attack was enough to reveal Aicantar had been correct. The spider then scurried towards the group, metallic legs _clinking_ along.

The travelers stood, watching for a second, as the Automaton came closer. Finally, it leapt into the air towards Zolara. He simply side-stepped. When the Dwarven Spider landed, S'maath gave it a solid whack. The loud sound of the machine crashing against stone was nearly deafening.

"At least it means we're getting close to something familiar," Aicantar said.

"Unless it's an errant Spider that lost its way," Zolara rebutted.

The rest paid him no mind and continued towards the whitish glow in the distance. After another several minutes, the glow occupied a larger portion of the black horizon. In their excitement, they wanted to run but it was not a safe idea. Any step they took potentially led off the edge of a precipice. So they continued at a slow pace. Then they saw what created the light and it was much brighter than they had thought.

A mushroom of inexplicable enormity grew towards the ceiling. It was a ghostly white, almost translucent with a soft-blue core. The stalk was smooth and the cap possessed several tendrils, lazily hanging towards the ground. It was not unlike a Glowing Mushroom. The closer they came, the more they saw. This mushroom was also akin to a tree. The stalk split off into several other vertical stalks, each with a cap. The mushroom was tiered with a total of seven caps, the one close to the ceiling being the largest. A few other mushrooms, not quite so immense but still pretty big, grew in the same area.

"Illuminous Mushroom," Zolara stated.

"Pardon?" Falion asked.

"I took some samples of these when we traveled under Mzulft. It shares some properties of the Glow Mushroom but has some new properties as well. If mixed as a poison, the venom causes the target to glow. It illuminates the target, so I called it Illuminous Mushroom," he replied.

"What if you ingest it?" S'maath asked.

"Ingesting the Illiminous Mushroom alone won't cause you to glow. You have to mix in other reagents as well… oddly enough, I found it causes a momentary discomfort to light," Zolara answered.

"Do you believe eating this caused the Falmer to lose sight?" Aicantar asked.

"I would say, it is a definite possibility," Zolara replied.

They walked closer and closer. As they did, they slowly traveled up a rocky hill. Once they were a few hundred paces away, they no longer needed Candle Light. The Illuminous Mushrooms was taller than any building they had ever seen, except for Falion. He had seen unspeakable things. Soon they reached the apex of the hill. A cobbled path lay at the bottom of the hill. A Dwemer city was built into the black stone. They had found an end to the blackness.

"You think we should move inside the city?" S'maash asked.

"We might as well. If those other glows were cities then there are at least four of them. I think our best bet here is to eliminate this one, if it is not the correct city, and return for supplies before searching the others," Brelyna answered.

"Hm, a sound judgment," S'maath added.

"Aye," Aicantar agreed.

S'maash inhaled deeply as he eyed the city before him. It was much like every Dwemer city. Dwarven Metal plates, shingled round rooves, piping grew into and out of the stone structure, which was much darker than the gray stone used in other cities. The churning of gears echoed. On occasion, a soft billowing of steam was ejected. The light cast by the Illuminous Mushroom gave everything a haunting and ghost-like appearance.

"Let's just hope this is the right one," S'maash said.

They proceeded down the hill to the cobbled road and followed it to a round, Dwemer door. It was metal, like the doors of Skyrim, but round like the doors beneath Damlzthur. Several, concentric circles, in a messy, oddly spaced arrangement, were apparent on the door. A few, bluish, baubles sat at the center.

"How does it open?" S'maash asked.

"Perhaps this is not the door?" Zolara ventured a guess.

"No, no, this is a puzzle. Hold for a moment," Aicantar said.

He approached the puzzle door and laid a hand on it. A slight reverberation crept into his fingers.

"A tonal lock? I have heard of such things," he whispered.

"Come again?" Brelyna asked.

"Tonal locks respond to notes," Falion started. "There must be an instrument, or instruments nearby… if it is a tonal lock."

"Most assuredly it is," Aicantar said.

"What do they look like?" S'maash asked.

"Could be anything. Look for something with the same blue jewels," Falion answered.

The travelers stepped back from the puzzle door. They looked all about their surrounding area. The city was quite expansive, so they broke up and followed the walls.

"I have something!" Zolara called out.

"Aye us too!" S'maath yelled back.

High above them, they spotted slowly rotating machinery. Its double bow-like structure was reminiscent of the winding keys used in small music boxes.

"That's it boys. Use your Bound Bows. Strike the mechanism so it climbs the thread on the shaft," Falion ordered.

They did just so. After a few misses, they were able to strike both winding keys. A resounding _gong_ was the result. A slight rumble accosted their feet. Aicantar watched in awe as the puzzle door before him spun and spun. Each complete rotation brought the circles on the door to an equidistant spacing. The front plate then slid into the ground as the circles retreated, creating an opening.

"We're in ladies and gentlemen," Aicantar said.

**Chapter Thirty-Six An Eight of Dwemer**

"More endless walking… and more endless walking," Zolara remarked.

"Stop complaining," Brelyna fired back.

Zolara gave a shrug of exasperation. Several minutes of traversing the Dwemer corridor revealed naught but smooth walls and green flames, lining the ceiling. Several twists and turns persisted for a great while. Tired from travel, the group broke once more.

"Goodness but he is right," Aicantar said.

"Aye. My old bones are beginning to creak," Falion complained as he unfurled his bedroll.

"Where do you think this will lead?" S'maath asked.

"Hopefully the center of Tamriel," S'maash answered.

"But what do we do then?" Zolara asked.

"I don't know… I'm sure we'll figure it out. Look how far we've come. We may very well be the only people to have traveled here in thousands of years. I see no remains, and only that Dwarven Spider did we come across," S'maash replied.

"I didn't expect this journey to be so…devoid of adversity," S'maath said with a wince.

Brelyna looked at him with an accusatory raising of the brow.

"Oh, but I'm very glad to have joined you all," he then added.

S'maash smirked. After eating, laughing, and a few swigs of Nord Mead, they pressed forward. Hours went by when a heat crept into the corridor, a heat and the smell of molten stone.

"We are coming close to something. The air is different here," Zolara said.

It was only a short while before the corridor spat them into a cave of sorts. The greatest point of interest was a magnificent Dwemer Puzzle Box a few hundred paces away. Like the door, it too, had the odd circles and bluish baubles. A path of stone, like obsidian, lay before the crew. A step down onto the natural stone, gave them a new perspective.

Lava bubbled around them. They had adequate room to navigate without danger but the cave was very hot. Several, other corridors, either led to or from, the cavern.

"I would wager, there are many paths here," Falion said.

"Excellent. Whatever it is we must do, should be indicated by what is in that puzzle box," S'maash said.

They eagerly walked towards it. None of them had bothered to look at the ceiling. A few rows of shiny, soft-blue, colored men were fastened in an upside-down, squatting position. The Men of Aetherius were guardians of the Centers of the Worlds, and whether or not they were crafted by the Dwemer, was a mystery. Upon coming close to the puzzle box, one of them snapped to life. He dropped down, between S'maash and the box. With one knee and one fist, he smashed into the stone floor.

The athletically designed, Man of Aetherius raised his smooth, round head. His head looked like a full helmet. Instead of eyes, he possessed a menacing slit, from which only darkness exuded. With subtle gasps of awe and wonder, the group looked at the machine come to a full stand. His body was designed to look like Elven Armor, only very smooth and, more round in its shoulders, hips, and thighs. The Man of Aetherius drew two Aetherial Short Swords and charged like a flash of lightning at the group.

"By the Nine!" Zolara managed to say as he dove to the side.

He had been close to S'maash and the machine bore down on the Dark Elf. While the group started the rituals of summoning Atronachs and such, S'maash locked eyes with the machine's slit, planted his feet in anticipation, and grasped his sword in both hands. The Man of Aetherius had other plans.

The opponent deftly stopped a few feet from S'maash, vaulted himself up and forward while moving his head backwards. This placed him in an upside-down, vertical position, directly over S'maash. Before the Dark Elf understood the maneuver, the machine was falling towards him with both swords aimed directly down. S'maash's mouth drooped a little. A potent blow from his rear caused him to stumble forward and the Man of Aetherius missed. Quickly, it recovered its swords as S'maath lay into its back.

"I'll crush you like a bug!" he yelled.

The overhead slash had little effect and soon, chaos ensued as Atronachs and seven other Men of Aetherius joined the fray. All of the machines carried different weapons. Some had hammers or axes, others held swords and shield, and all of them were fast as lightning.

Magicka of all kinds swirled and blew about. Fire Balls exploded, sparks from Chain Lightning _zipped_ and _crackled_, misty frost covered the ground. The clash of blades pounded against the cave walls.

"Brelyna, take the center and keep us healed," S'maash called out.

He clashed blades with a machine holding a War Axe. The man spun away to his left then butted S'maash with the haft of his weapon, shuffled forward, and with a squaring of the hips, he raised the blunt end of the axe head into S'maash's chin.

"I'm trying," Brelyna called back.

With a quick recovery, S'maash grabbed the shoulder plate with his left hand and smashed his pommel repeatedly into the helmet of his opponent.

"Zolara, take to Sneaking and fire from your Bound Bow," S'maash ordered.

"Dealing with my own trouble here," he replied.

Zolara ran behind the Dwemer Puzzle Box, crouched, then deftly hopped onto it. The man chasing him had not noticed the flattened lizard on top of the box. Once no longer detected, Zolara followed his orders. From his vantage point, he was able to let loose a few Bound Arrows into the backs of the Men of Aetherius. He was also privy to watching the whirlwind of Malachite, S'maath, who spun one way and brought his glistening blade with his body, stopped short, crashed his blade down onto another enemy, placed a hand on its back and vaulted himself over, then charged off to another.

The Men of Aetherius were doing quite well at working as a team. An oddity was their proclivity for attacking the Atronachs and the warriors but not the mages. S'maash was unaware of the fact.

"Mages flee to safety and fire your spells from whatever cover you can find," S'maash called out.

"There isn't any!" Falion retorted.

More magicka crashed through the battle. Many of the enemies fought tirelessly, Icy Spears protruding from their bodies. Still, others fought with an entire quiver of Bound Arrows in their backsides. They leapt high and ran low. They chopped low and swung high. They bashed with their shields and smashed with their hammers. They did not falter.

A Man of Aetherius landed before Brelyna. She recoiled at first then held palms poised for a dual casting; Wall of Ice. As the magickal shards poured out, the Man of Aetherius half turned away, drew the handle of his hammer like a spear, and butted Brelyna in the stomach. The blow sent her to the ground below, lungs emptied of air. He then stepped up to her, gauging her through the slit in his helmet. Zolara clenched his teeth and fired a Bound Arrow at the base of his skull. It struck proper and the man turned but saw nothing. Brelyna then scrambled away and summoned a Frost Atronach. It engaged the enemy.

During her scuffle, S'maash and S'maath fought back to back against multiple enemies. When one came in another retreated and when one took a blow another counter attacked. A great sweep from an Aetherial Greatsword brought both Elves to the ground. In an attempt to recover, they held weapons overhead and blocked potent blows. Finally, S'maath spotted an opening.

From a knee he stood, thrusting his blade clean into a Man of Aetherius. The blade penetrated to the hilt and S'maath lifted him off the ground, a powerful war cry behind the blade. He then smashed the enemy into the ground. Shockingly, a red substance poured from the wound. The man grasped at his midsection as he writhed. These were not machines.

The other Men of Aetherius heard the cries of pain, let off their current opponents, and shielded their wounded friend from more injury. S'maash and friends observed in disbelief. Before they could react, the injured warrior was healed by another, then a strange resonation occurred. A musical tone echoed throughout the cave. The Men of Aetherius stood in a semi-circle and prevented anyone to come beyond them, though Zolara was behind them, his Bound Bow had expired.

"Attack!" S'maash called out.

Another note, different in tone, echoed. One by one, each man produced a note until the octave was covered. A field of energy, barely visible, kept them safe. Suddenly, their armors slid into and out of place, they scrambled and climbed over one another like a group of jesters. Then it happened, they joined as one massive machine-man.

"A Dwemer of Eight can create a golem but and eight of Dwemer can become one…" Aicantar whispered.

There were no words or thoughts for S'maash. He was completely astonished. The eight Dwemer had become and Aetherium Golem. A note rang out from the beast and it charged. Again, S'maath knocked his brother out of the way and took the brunt of the kick given by the enemy. With great force, it knocked him nearly to the edge of the stone floor. S'maath looked at the lava bubbling before him.

"No thank you," he said and recovered.

On charging back in, he saw the rest running about, casting spells and summoning Atronachs as usual.

"Holding strong?" S'maash called out.

"Aye," S'maath answered.

Once the brothers reached striking distance, they made an attempt to maneuver around the Aetherium Golem but it spun at the waist to face then. With a powerful, and massive, blue, hand, it smashed the ground. Both of the brothers were missed by little more than Skeever's whisker. S'maath took off once more. He started climbing the golem's fist when the other hand reached out. S'maath managed a solid stab into the wrist of the arm he climbed before being snatched away, swordless.

"Brother!" S'maash yelled to him.

For a quick second, S'maath was crushed then immediately dropped. He sounded like a sack of Septims when he hit the ground. Brelyna ran over to him, horrified.

"Oof. That really hurt," S'maath whispered.

"S'wit," She said as she he healed him.

The Aetherium Golem let out another _gong_, a higher pitch than the first. S'maash and friends were momentarily stunned by the impact of the sound. Once they recovered, they saw the golem coming for them. This time, the enemy focused on the Atronachs. It took a Frost Atronach in one hand and a Storm Atronach in the other. With powerful fists, it squeezed them until an orange and a purple burst of magicka were expelled.

"Damn you, Dwemer," Zolara whispered.

He was still kneeling on the puzzle box. After conjuring a new Bound Bow, he watched the Dark Elf brothers charge and slash, dive and hack, and spin with the fury of Dragons. They were effective but were not dealing much damage. Zolara made an attempt to relax and produced a new Bound Bow. Then he drew a Bound Arrow, aimed, and slowly exhaled, once the magickal bowstring reached its apex. The demonic arrows found their target, for the most part.

Aicantar and Falion were growing rather weary of running to safety, summoning, firing a few spells, and running to safety. Neither of them were particularly young. To his shame, Aicantar decided to flee the battle. He reached the entrance to the corridor and his heart sank. A gate had been raised to bar the way back. He sat for a second. _My, I do wish I could do more but I'm a scholar not a warrior, or even a traveler._

During Aicantar's dilemma, S'maash grunted and yelled as he hacked at the golem's knees. In response, the golem stopped to snatch him off the ground but received a hand full of S'maath's sword instead. A third _gong_ rang and again the fighting came to a halt.

"What is it doing?" Brelyna asked.

No one answered. Before any thoughts were formulated, the golem released thick waves of Frost Bite from its hands. The reflective shards of frozen magicka did not have a great effect on the group, who resisted as much, but the frozen ground and obscured vision were problems. They turned their faces as the golem effortlessly stepped up to them, blasted them with open palms, and easily moved its arms, all the while, spinning at the waist.

Aicantar, having had enough rest, summoned a Storm Thrall. Zolara summoned another Bound Bow and kept firing arrows. Falion held a steady Wall of Storm on the enemy, and Brelyna kept them in fighting shape. S'maath tried to plant his feet but when he jumped to strike, his left foot slipped a little on the ice, and he did not gain the height he had wished for. He struck at the golem's thigh with little effect.

S'maash spun his sword overhead and brought the tip down, intending to pin the golem's foot as they did to the Dwarven Centurion Keeper. His blade did not sink quite so far but he did call the attention of the golem, who pulled its foot back. S'maash held tightly to his blade. The speed with which the foot moved caused his body to go horizontal. Then the kick forced his body the other way and he could no longer hold on. He slammed into the puzzle box and for the first time, since the battle began, Zolara was spotted. A fourth _gong_ rang.

Zolara swallowed hard as he realized the implications.

"Perhaps it is time for a new strategy," he said.

He hopped down and ran over to the others. He met Brelyna half way as she was coming to S'maash's aid.

"Hold. We should alternate running in one direction then another. All the while-," S'maash was trying to give orders when the golem snatched at Brelyna.

The Dark Elf and Argonian tried to help her but she was thrown at S'maath, who was chasing the golem. They crashed into each other and fell over. S'maash tapped Zolara and motioned to follow. He held his hands out, casting Fire Balls. The flaming, orange, orbs exploded upon impact. He then stopped abruptly and ran back in the other direction, towards Zolara. While the golem stepped in to overtake them, they crossed paths, both of them unleashing fiery damage.

The momentary faltering of the enemy provided Falion a chance to rest and S'maath a chance to catch the golem unawares. Then the fifth _gong_ rang, the highest note yet. After the stunning effect of the note wore off, S'maath dove head-first at the golem, plunged his blade into its hip, landed softly before the other foot, and snatched his brother's sword. A sudden rising of that foot brought him up hard. Having held firmly to the sword, he was able to pull himself up in a sitting position. As he tried to stand, the foot came down hard and he fell off to the ground, sword in hand.

The rest of the group continued magickal attacks. Sparks arced, fires exploded, and shards of ice covered the battlefield. A great many Atronachs thundered, ambled, and skated about as well, but S'maath was the only one to deal any real damage. Then the golem got away from him. It ran with more speed than he thought possible, and with a shard of Malachite in its hip. When it reached the mages, it threw several fists. One struck Zolara square and he hit the wall. Many more strikes about the ground caused shards of obsidian to pelt the area. A few hammer fists came down squarely on the Atronachs and they popped or sizzled in defeat.

Zolara capitalized on the situation and ran passed S'maath, back to the puzzle box, where he hid behind it until all eyes were off him. S'maath jumped high and plunged the other sword into the other hip. The golem tried to stand but could not. It fell over forward instead. S'maath wore a big grin.

"Yes!" Brelyna cheered.

S'maash summoned two Bound Swords and went in for an attack but a sixth _gong_ rang and he was momentarily halted. The golem used that time to draw the swords from its joints. It tried to crush the blades but failed. It dropped them instead then stood once more.

The brothers caught each other's glance and scooped up their respective swords. The mages, with depleted magicka, could do little more than rest, and Zolara was back to firing arrows while Sneaking.

"S'maash, can we-," S'maath had started.

A blue fist came down to him, as it did, he used his blade to block and hopped off the ground so the attack would push him, more so than crush him. The resulting blow left him on his seat but unharmed. S'maash charged in, from the side, and plunged his blade into the knee joint when a sudden jolt ran through his body, he had been slapped by the golem and pinned to the side of the leg. The surprising blow caused him to lose a moment and hell fell backwards. Brelyna came in to heal.

S'maath recovered and pushed for another attack. A giant, blue, foot came careening towards him. He shoulder rolled forward and the foot landed behind him. With a standing and twisting motion, he half turned and struck over his shoulder, driving his blade into the golem's calf. In a shocking maneuver, the golem raised that foot quickly and placed it over its other foot, all the while S'maath fluttering behind. Upon touching the ground, like a dancer, the golem threw its foot up and out in a crescent and S'maath flew towards the lava.

Aicantar ran as quickly as he could and pelted S'maath with Wall of Ice. The added weight of the shards that covered him brought the Dark Elf to the ground a little faster but he still slid into the lava. Falion, who understood the scenario as it unfolded, ran over with Healing Hands at the ready, and pulled the screaming warrior onto the obsidian floor. Falion and Aicantar quickly restored him.

"See to my brother," S'maash told Brelyna.

She nodded and followed orders. A seventh _gong_ rang. S'maash stood his ground. He held his blade in his right and let the tip rest on the ground. With his left he casted Ebony Flesh and the glow covered his body. He then let loose a great many Ice Storms. Finally the Golem turned to him. It ran to overtake him but he rolled onto his right shoulder then spun right and carried his blade across his body. It crashed with a solid impact upon the enemy's leg.

Still, magicka and arrows flew about but S'maash was the only one in the thick of battle. The Golem tried desperately to crush him underfoot or pick him up. Something had changed and its attacks no longer appeared timely or planned. It was simply trying to kill. S'maath noticed as well and saw the opportunity he had been hoping for. He took off at a full run, passed the healers.

The Golem knelt to grab S'maash who sliced at the open hand. It then crawled forward and tried to grab again. S'maath ran in from the side. His brother saw the ploy, so he baited the golem, providing not only the chance to arrive, but also to secure his blade. Since the Golem was on hands and knees, it was easy. S'maath drew the sword from the blue steel but the goliath jolted in surprise. It attempted to turn around when S'maash hopped onto its wrist then from there, hopped again to drive his own blade into its chest.

As his blade slid in, S'maath ran up to the hip joint, climbed with one hand and pushed off with his toes. At the same time, the Aetherium Golem came up to an erect, kneeling position and tried to remove S'maash's sword. In reply, S'maath grabbed the waist then climbed the protruding Bound Arrows to the Golem's shoulder. With sword overhead, it was finally time for the deathblow.

The eighth _gong_ rang.

**Chapter Thirty-Seven A New Guardian**

A reverberation rang and completed the octave. The Aetherium Golem vibrated, violently. S'maath lost his footing before he could strike. He slipped and fell to the ground. As he rolled over he, and the others, watched as the Golem dissembled. The Dwemer of Eight had run out of time. The group kept a firm gaze on the enemy but the Dwemer did not attack, instead they took a knee.

"What is this? What are they doing?" S'maash asked, out of breath.

The foremost experts, Aicantar and Falion, had no reply. The Deep Elves removed their Aetherium Helmets revealing bronze skin like their Wood Elf counterparts. An old one, with combed back, white hair spoke. His words were ancient and incomprehensible to most.

"He says their time has come to pass," Aicantar translated.

The group of travelers walked over to the line of kneeling Dwemer.

"What does that mean?" Brelyna asked, still aghast.

Aicantar looked to her and shrugged when the old Elf spoke again, in his staccato language.

"For eight tones you have fought and for eight tones you have survived. You may pass to set foot upon Xranthrnl, if you can restore life to a dead world," Aicantar said.

"He must mean restoring the Heart of Lorkhan," Falion interjected.

S'maash put away his weapons and produced the beating, red, Heart of Lorkhan. The Dwemer then stood, still holding their helmets, and walked to the Dwemer Puzzle Box. S'maash and friends slowly followed suit.

One Deep Elf took a small Dwarven Metal tool, shaped like a 'Y', and tapped it against the box. The round door spun causing the circles to alter their arrangement. A second Elf did the same and again the door spun. The procedure was repeated five more times and the circles were neatly arranged but the door did not unlock. The only one who had not done anything was the old Elf. He took a knife and cut his hand before placing a drop of blood on the round door. It rumbled then sank into the ground. The old Elf turned to S'maash and spoke again.

"Only a living world can grant knowledge and passage," Aicantar translated.

S'maash looked to his friends. They nodded and turned back to the opening. He walked inside to find a small altar. Two, stone, hands were present on either side as though awaiting something. The old Dwemer walked in behind S'maash and pointed to the altar. S'maash gingerly placed the Heart of Lorkhan on its top. The old Elf pulled two Dwemer pipes and secured them to the Heart of Lorkhan by way of spinning couplings. He turned back to S'maash and spoke. By then, Aicantar had followed in.

"Order and chaos cannot exist separately. Life granted by a God can only be held with the hands of a demon," Aicantar said.

"Hands?" S'maash asked.

"Yes… probably the ones Hermaeus Mora gave you," Aicantar answered.

S'maash and the Deep Elf held eye contact for a second. He then took the red, ruby-like, hands from his pack and held them. The old Elf pointed to the stone hands. S'maash slid the gauntlets over the stone fingers, a perfect fit. Again the old Elf spoke.

"Life and death resonate as one," Aicantar said.

S'maash shrugged but knew he needed Kagrenac's tools for something. He produced them as well. The old Elf spoke more.

"A fist might smash but an open palm can create," Aicantar said.

"Yes, I've heard that before," S'maash said with a subtle smile.

Aicantar translated those words into Dwemer and the old Elf replied.

"Place the tonal tools in the hands," Aicantar told him.

When S'maash did so, the gauntlets came to life. They gripped the tools and held them, ever so close to the heart. A wavering, like too much heat off a forge, obscured the focus of the Heart of Lorkhan and a swirling manifested before S'maash, Aicantar, and the Deep Elf.

"Come friends," S'maash called out.

As they came closer to peer inside the Puzzle Box, the remaining Dwemer walked in. one by one they entered the swirling light and vanished. The old Dwemer spoke one final phrase before he too entered.

"See for yourself what an Eight of Dwemer can truly forge," Aicantar whispered.

"We must go to Xranthrnl," Falion said.

They were in agreement, though they were not altogether composed.

"I will go," S'maash said.

Before anyone could say a word, he stepped into the portal. A sublime vertigo overtook him. His eyes shut. For a brief moment, he thought he was going to be sick to his stomach. It passed and he opened his eyes. Everyone had come through and before them was the most astounding sight yet.

The new Dwemer home, Xranthrnl, was a conglomeration of nature and machinery. Where S'maash and friends stood, trees and stone surrounded them but gears, piping, cranes, and all types of mechanical creation were built into and around the area as well. Several of the machines showed exposed gears but these were different than the ancient gears of Dwemer ruins, they were thinner, sleeker, and much more quiet. Great sheets of blue Aetherium reflected a light from far away, casting a haunting glow over the area. From where the source of light originated, no one could tell. A Dwemer placed his hand on S'maash's shoulder. He spoke his language of old.

"Come to meet our Lord. Malkriis awaits," Aicantar translated.

"What a strange name," Zolara remarked.

Brelyna winced and elbowed him. They followed behind the eight Dwemer, who took them around a large dome, built into the ground. It was forged from Dwemer steel and resembled the Puzzle Box. Its utility was unknown. From there, the group was led down a stone path and beyond a waterfall. As the water cascaded from high above, it fell upon an awning of sorts. That forced the water to part, so travelers could walk beneath, and into the Lord's manor, without getting wet.

From the exterior, the manor was crafted entirely out of smooth, Dwemer steel. The interior was much different. Several gas lamps lined a stone corridor.

"They erected walls of metal over the natural rock," Falion said.

"And carved it to a work of art beyond words," Aicantar added.

It was true. The Lord's manor relegated the appearance of Dwemer ruins to the wayside as far as art and beauty was concerned. The hall looked as though Dwemer had neatly etched several rows of lines, circles, swirls, and other images into every inch of the walls. The group could not help but wonder how such a feat was possible. Before too long, they came to a stop, a lift before them. Again the Dwemer spoke.

"Each new height is decided by a pull," Aicantar said in slight confusion.

The Dwemer motioned for the group to stand upon the giant lift. Instead of a single lever at the center, as the lifts of Dwemer ruins, several small levers were built into a stand at the center. One of the Dwemer nodded and pulled the highest lever. With a soft hiss, they rose to heights unknown.

"My… this is…," Brelyna trailed off.

"Indescribable?" S'maath asked.

She looked to him and smiled.

They traveled up a long ways. After moments, the lift came to a halt. Behind them, a wall rotated along an unseen seem. The Dwemer walked through and into a throne room, comprised entirely of Aetherium and Dwarven Metal. The round chamber glistened from the gas lamps overhead. A beautiful purple and gold carpet brought the group before the ornate and jewel encrusted throne. A powerful-looking Deep Elf, clad in Aetherium Chain Mail stood. Great locks of gray, hair grew all the way to the ground, both from his head and his face. A Dwemer conversation ensued. As Aicantar translated, a few other Deep Elves, gorgeous, young women in satin gowns, entered the room.

"The Lord said he is glad to have his guardians return to Xranthrnl. In turn, they replied that they have brought the warriors who withstood the Test of Eight Tones," Aicantar said.

Again the Lord spoke. The women, who carried Silver Platters with sweet smelling fruits and meat, approached all the new arrivals. While both parties ate, the Lord continued speaking.

"All planes are open and the ways to travel are many. With infinity at our disposal, a new sharing might occur. We, the Dwemer, have achieved all that we have set mind and tools to. Your accomplishment was no mean feat and I am glad to share what we have with each of you but-," Aicantar translated.

For a moment no more was said. The group passed glances and Aicantar shrugged in reply. The Lord then spoke more.

"But all is not safe, for many should not be given free pass to worlds they cannot comprehend. With my eight Tonal Warriors returned, there is none left to guard the living Mundas. Who among you could live between two worlds?" Aicantar translated.

"He wants someone to stay as the new guardian of the Heart of Lorkhan," Falion clarified.

"What?" S'maash asked in disbelief.

"Not I," Zolara said.

"Nor I, honestly," Brelyna said.

S'maash and S'maath looked each other over then shook their heads. Falion said nothing but was clearly uninterested. Aicantar stirred.

"I will stay," he said.

"No," Brelyna whispered.

Aicantar nodded before speaking to the Lord in Dwemeri. The Lord replied. Aicantar spoke to his friends.

"He accepts. Listen, my knowledge on the Dwemer is fairly well established. Someone needs to stand guard… I will do it and gladly. The Lord also says he will grant each of you a gift. For me, it will be a complete knowledge of machinery, something I have always been fascinated with," Aicantar spoke happily.

"We each get a gift? I mean, Aicantar, noooo…" Zolara said, half joking as his voice trailed off.

"I wouldn't mind some Aetherium to take back to the Reyda Tong," S'maath said.

Aicantar nodded as he turned to each and translated to Malkriis. The women quickly left and returned with something for everyone. S'maath received several Aetherium Ingots. Zolara received a book, containing the extended research on Alchemy as conceived by the Dwemer. Brelyna was given a tome, containing forgotten spells pertaining to the school of Alteration. Falion asked for the methodology behind long distance Dwemer communications, as hinted to in the story 'Chimarvarmidium', and was given a small, teardrop shaped, piece of metal with a fork at the end. Aicantar translated for him the pertinent information in both duplication and use. Finally they looked at S'maash who had remained quiet.

He eyed each one of his friends, and every Deep Elf in the great chamber, until settling upon their Lord.

"I began a journey… I looked to unraveling the mysteries of Enchanting, the secrets of magicka… This journey brought me to new friends, unknown enemies, and great dangers. All I seek is to continue this endeavor. I must understand the secrets of Enchanting… all of them," S'maash spoke slowly, thinking out each word.

Aicantar translated S'maash's request into Dwemeri. Malkriis stepped over to S'maash and placed a hand on his shoulder before speaking.

"Your brave journey has led you to me know. Doubtless a quest for knowledge has sparked the eyes of the Daedra but as you cannot believe all that you see, they cannot see all that there is to believe," Aicantar said.

S'maash was at a loss. He looked at Aicantar and back to the Dwemer Lord, who spoke again.

"To you I grant a tome. The intricacies contained within may help you to discern the nature of enchantments. I must inform you, it is not possible to find all that you require in one world," Aicantar translated.

The tome was then given to S'maash, leather-bound and pristine. Inside, were Dwemer symbols, designs, and diagrams. S'maash nodded in approval, though he did not yet understand what it was he possessed. Finally Malkriis spoke one last time.

"To stay too long in a world of different can be detrimental to those who are not around you," Aicantar said, slightly confused.

"We're existing in a different flow of time. What is minutes here might be hours or days in our world," Falion clarified.

"Then we should make haste," S'maath said.

"Yes. I shall accompany you back to the way we came," Aicantar replied.

They all bid farewell to their new Deep Elf friends and returned to the lift. A simple pull of the bottom-most lever took them back to ground level. They slowly walked the corridor, back to the waterfall and around the dome in the courtyard of Xranthrnl. The twilight provided ample radiance and the travelers arrived before the podium upholding the Heart of Lorkhan. As they drew near, it vibrated and the portal back to Tamriel opened.

"I will see you all again soon, I'm sure," Aicantar said, new tears in his eyes.

"Goodbye my friend," Brelyna said.

They all said goodbye and stepped into the portal. After a slight vertigo, they were back in the deep recesses of Damlzthur where a battle had been won, where lava bubbled, where now, there were only five travelers. They made for home.

**End**

After a trip back to L'Thu Oad, the brothers split once more. S'maath had a great deal of work to do with the Reyda Tong and S'maash was anxious to begin studies on the tome he received. Falion had told him it was several mystical designs used in the creation of a new kind of Arcane Enchanter, a potent and mysterious tool, sure to unravel significant finds in the school of Enchanting.

Brelyna kept in touch with S'maath, by way of letters, in hopes than one day, he might move to Skyrim, or she to Morrowind. At the College of Winterhold, she continued to teach Alteration. Falion returned to Morthal where his studies attracted Zolara. He, in turn, abandoned the College to work with Falion on new discoveries in the school of Conjuration.

S'maash stayed in touch with everyone as he bounced back and forth between his court wizard duties in Whiterun and his giving lectures on Enchanting at the Mage's College of Winterhold. With the help of Urag, Tolfdir, and occasional meetings with Falion, he learned enough of the Dwemer tongue to decipher the tome for himself.

S'maash was shocked to find that among the required artifacts, some of which were nearly indescribable, was an Elder Scroll, Arcane. That became his top priority and one day he left in search of it.


End file.
